


Agape

by SquareRootBeer



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Action/Adventure, Drama, F/M, Family, Family Dynamics, Fluff, Friendship/Love, Hogwarts Sixth Year, Humor, Implied Sexual Content, Romance, Teen Pregnancy, Well-Written
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-02-08
Updated: 2015-04-01
Packaged: 2018-01-11 13:51:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 38,238
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1173831
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SquareRootBeer/pseuds/SquareRootBeer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The war was won, love was in the air, and despite the toll that had been taken on the two, Harry and Hermione were happy together. But when young Mrs. Potter learns that she is with child, Fate pays the two a visit. Literally. The deity has come down to strike a bargain with the couple. Their task? The death of another world's Voldemort. The reward? Their unborn child's life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

**Chapter One**

**AN: Hello, there!  Whether you are a first time reader of mine or a returning fan, I welcome you to Agape!  Named after the Greek word translating as unconditional love, this is a tale of two young lovers who will go to any lengths to ensure the safety of their child.  As a solitary disclaimer for this entire story, I’ll go ahead and say that I do not, in any way/shape/form, own Harry Potter or any of its related properties.  Also, please note that this fic will be rated a strong M.  Gore will only show in moderate amounts, but sexual insinuations and crude language are sure to be plentiful.  Now that that’s out of the way let’s get to the damn story, yeah!**

As Harry prepared for bed, making sure it was his normal sky-blue toothbrush and not Hermione’s jewel encrusted green one that his clawed hands were squeezing a dollop of toothpaste onto, he glanced up and spotted two glowing green eyes staring back at him from inside the recently cleaned mirror in his Grimmauld Place bathroom.  Frowning slightly, Harry took a moment to study his relatively new appearance as he absently sawed the course white bristles back and forth across his pearly whites.  After a moment’s observation, the eighteen year old Potter snorted in amusement at the ridiculous image he made for.  At five and a half feet tall, with the same messy black hair he’d had since forever reaching down to just above his jawline, Harry Potter figured he’d look a lot like most people had probably expected him to at this age if not for a few tiny, minute, negligible differences.

Like, for instance, what at first glance appeared to be fine, matte-black, elbow-length gloves that were actually just his perfectly normal hands which ended in not-at-all-strange diamond-hard, razor-sharp claws.  Another difference was the soft glow given off by his emerald green eyes, which otherwise had remained unchanged since his birth.

‘Nothing too weird there,’ he thought, the glow being negligible, and save for when he looked into mirrors, it wasn’t like he could see his own eyes anyways, now could he? 

Harry’s attempts at reassuring himself of his normality died a fiery death when his eyes were inevitably drawn to the two, once again, matte-black leathery wings which were folded up behind him.  Harry scowled at the two appendages which, surprisingly unobtrusive as they were, still drew attention to themselves with proficiency more befitting one of those wailing, flashing fire alarms which had peppered his old muggle school.  He was just glad that the damn things were flexible and compact enough for him to fold them down flush against his skin, allowing him to wear normal clothing as he pleased.  Only in skintight apparel would they show up, and since he preferred t-shirts and robes over spandex and diving suits, keeping them hidden would prove easy enough should he ever eventually work up the courage to leave the house.  Deciding that turning back now, after braving so much, would be cowardly, Harry spared his last addition a glance as he leaned forward and spat a mouthful of tartar fighting foam into the sink.

A tail. A bloody, _surprise surprise_ , matte-black, six foot long, galleon thick, capped at the end in fur the likeness of a teardrop, honest to merlin, _tail_.

 ‘Honestly,’ Harry thought with a frown, ‘at least the damn wings are useful’.

He knew he was being less than honest in his thoughts over his tail, but while the stone smashing power, lightening quickness, and perfect dexterity of the devilish appendage _were_ useful, nothing beat flying.

_Nothing._

‘Except for sex,’ Harry thought, as he finished washing his mouth out and returned to his overly opulent bedroom to find Hermione sprawled out across their mattress nude, innocently pretending to read what he thought looked like a Stephen King novel.  He figured it out for the ruse that it was when he noticed the arching of her back.  For, while her nudity didn’t exactly give her desires away (they’d been so comfortable around each other for so long that clothing was always optional in private) Harry knew that if she’d actually been interested in reading her spine would be straight and relaxed, offering her the most comfort.

Instead of comfort for her poor back, the only offering being done presently was that of a great view from Hermione to Harry.  As she turned her head and, abandoning what flimsy pretenses of reading there’d been and giving him an ironically devilish smile, Harry took a moment to study the woman to whom he’d given his heart nearly four years ago.

She continued to stun him with her beauty to this day, looking as if to have been custom-made just for him by the gods.  He’d told her as much once, much to her at-the-time amusement and exasperation if he recalled correctly; sure they’d both been avoiding Death Eater spellfire at the time but there was simply no stopping him when he was in a poetic mood.  Returning her sultry smirk with a waggling of his eyebrows that drew a giggle from her, Harry crawled up the bed until he was lying directly behind her and propped his head up with a hand.  Unable to resist himself, he brought his other hand up and caressed her rosy cheek with the back of one of his menacing digits, although his heart warmed when Hermione only smiled and leaned into his touch.  Adjusting his eyes higher, he smiled at the sight of her still-damp hair.

He still fondly remembered the mostly untamable mane of long hair she’d had back in their childhood, but found that the pixie cut she’d given herself out of frustration on her seventeenth birthday had since grown on him, despite any teasing he may have given her over it in the past.  Her now shorter, straighter hair left her pretty face nowhere to hide, a nice bonus to what had originally been an action taken to eliminate a combat hazard after Hermione’d had her hair snagged on a twig one too many times whilst the two of them were out horcrux hunting.  As his eyes trailed down from her head and traveled all the way to her toes, making a few glorious stops along the way, he noticed how her feet stopped before his own did, and once again thanked his lucky stars that she’d stopped growing before he had.  Although the solitary inch he had on her seemed negligible, he was still glad that he hadn’t ended up having to look up every time he wanted to stare into her beautiful chocolate colored eyes.

“Perfect,” Harry murmured, the word which had slipped out during his studying of her adding a faint tint to Hermione’s already warm face.

Even things that he wouldn’t’ve thought he’d have liked before getting together with Hermione were now, years later, the physical qualities he preferred and found most attractive.  One example would be her breasts.  While he vaguely remembered staring at older girls’ bulging cleavage back in his single days when he’d first been entering puberty, he now found himself thinking that Hermione’s comparatively smaller chest was far lovelier.

As he did whenever he looked at her recently, Harry couldn’t help but notice the changes which had been forced upon her, much the same as his demonic alterations had been forced upon him, by Voldemort via the dark rituals they’d been put through only a few months ago.

Instead of splicing her with creatures too foul to live on this plane of existence as Voldemort had with him however, Hermione instead was forced through ritual after ritual after dark, _agonizing_ ritual in an attempt by the Dark Lord to fuse different magical artifacts he’d had in his possession with her very flesh.  The grand majority of the madman’s attempts were met with failure, the process being crude and Hermione’s own will keeping any of the objects from successfully melding with her body.  But, as weeks in captivity turned into months with no salvation in sight, her will weakened, just as his own had.  And also just as had been his case, her rituals too were tweaked and perfected by Voldemort until the Dark Lord finally achieved the results he’d been seeking.

Harry was now staring at the end results of that evil bastard’s meddling, and while he still thought that Hermione was the most gorgeous woman he’d ever laid eyes on, he was thankful that there had only been time enough for Voldemort to have three dark artifacts fused with Hermione before they’d escaped.

The Arreter Amulette, originally a cursed necklace consisting of a semi-sentient, fist sized ruby attached to a dull golden chain, took form post-ritual in Hermione as tiny shards of immovable ruby embedded around both of her eyes, giving off a permanent effect similar to eye glitter.  Hermione, upon seeing Harry’s gaze lingering on the alteration, lost a bit of the sparkle in her eyes and her smile began to shrink.  Until, that is, Harry leaned forward and tenderly pressed a kiss onto her fluttering eyelids, one after the other.  No matter what, the last thing Harry wanted to do was make Hermione uncertain of his adoration for her.  While he would never again see her without the shards coloring the skin around her eyes, he thought that she looked even prettier nowadays anyway.

Moving his gaze towards the manifestation of the second object to be forged into her skin, Harry appreciated the sparkle given off by the diamonds populating Hermione’s face.  Ten studs traveling up the cartilage in each ear framed her already jeweled face, with a diamond tongue ring finishing off the Stone of Intent’s new look.  Whereas it had previously been an unimpressive, inelegant hunk of uncut diamond mostly hidden inside the end of a petrified oaken staff, the bedazzling appearance it now gave Hermione was breathtaking.

‘If only,’ Harry thought with a smile as the mischievousness returned to Hermione’s face as he tugged on her sparkling earlobe with his teeth, ‘the overwhelming compulsion to own mountains of jewelry had stayed with the damn staff.’  Hermione’s jeweled toothbrush and the sheepish look she’d given him when she’d bought it immediately came to mind.

The third and final artifact was less glamorous than the previous two, showing up as what appeared at the moment to be a thin coat of wet, black metallic paint covering her entire neck, spanning from where her jaw began down to her collarbone, and then curving to run along her spine in a thin triangular shape which stopped just above her shapely rear.  He knew from experience that Arkay’s Skin, the name of the ancient Scottish necromancer’s robe with which she had become one, was currently in as deactivated a mode as it got.  He also knew that if Hermione were to become agitated the ‘paint’, which was actually not wet at all but smooth to the touch, would begin to creep down her body, expand further and further as her duress grew until every inch of her light, creamy skin was hidden beneath it.

As Harry traced one of his claws gently down the strip leading to Hermione’s bottom, not applying enough pressure to hurt her despite the fact that Arkay’s Skin would make such a thing impossible anyway, Harry allowed his observations of Hermione to come to an end.  Feeling a shift in the man she’d been in love with for many years, Hermione turned her head to peek at what he was doing and let out a startled, “Eep!” when she was suddenly spun onto her back.  Finding no Harry next to her, she looked further down and fought a blush when she saw what Harry was positioned to do.  As Harry began to practice his budding cunnilingus talent, making Hermione gasp in pleasure at the sensations, she forgot any lingering insecurities she may possibly have felt earlier when Harry had stared at her changes, and instead just let her head fall back as she lost herself in the moment.

*-*+*-*

Golden rays of morning sunshine barged their way in through long gaps in the thick burgundy curtains on the east-facing windows of Grimmauld Place, slowly dragging Harry back from the realm of dreams as they fell across his sleeping face.  He gave a slight frown as he decided that he wasn’t ready to wake up just yet, but as he went to turn around and burry his head underneath his pillow he caught sight of the woman lying next to him.  It still blew his mind to think that, after everything they’d been through, somehow they’d still managed to eke out a pretty happy life with one another.  After fighting side by side against the worst dark lord to have lived in the last thousand years, it would have been so easy for their relationship to crack and shatter.  Luckily, instead of folding under the pressure and growing bitter towards each other, Harry and Hermione’s relationship had been tempered by the conflict, leaving behind a deep trust and understanding of one another that had strengthened their bond to the point of being unbreakable. 

As he was admiring Hermione, Harry’s eyes were drawn to the golden band topped with a large diamond adorning her left ring finger.  The only regret Harry had over taking a knee and finally asking her to be his wife three weeks ago was that he hadn’t done so sooner, back when their friends had still been alive and able to attend their wedding.  As it was, the day he’d slipped the beautiful diamond ring onto her finger was still the best of his life, despite only having McGonagall, who’d done the ceremony, there in attendance.  It broke his heart to think that he hadn’t given her the grand wedding she deserved, and his demon blood made him feel more than a little self-loathing over the fact that he’d let his mate down, but Hermione had still seemed to radiate happiness while he’d been reading his vows to her in Headmistress McGonagall’s office, and the rational part of his brain pointed out that any public wedding would have been a disaster.

 Harry’s mild brooding was cut short when Hermione’s bejeweled eyelids fluttered open, revealing her warm brown eyes to the world.  He watched on as she let out a cute yawn that showed off her perfect white teeth and studded tongue, and Harry felt his face lose the slight frown it’d had and adopt a fond smile in its place.  Hermione noticed Harry’s content stare and felt her lips unconsciously forming a smile, which broadened when he returned the gesture and leaned in for a kiss.   Hermione started to moan into the kiss, but abruptly broke away from her husband and scurried out of bed, almost falling to the floor when the silken sheets refused to release her.  When she finally managed to break free of the blankets, Hermione quickly made her way to their bathroom and immediately curled up over the toilet and threw up; Harry’s panicking form hovering around her the whole time.  After forty solid seconds of sickness, Hermione finally held up a hand to silence a distraught Harry and show that she was fine.

Hermione, still in the buff, stood up shakily with Harry’s help and made her way over to the sink.  Then, after quickly rinsing her mouth out and pulling a bath robe from the hook on the door over herself, Hermione grabbed her wand from the bedroom and cast a general all-purpose diagnosis spell on herself.  She waited, and then slowly placed her hands together until they began to glow a soft golden color, signaling to her that the spell had run its course.  She then pulled her hands apart and scanned the magical readout that appeared, the floating, golden, cursive writing which hovered in front of her summarizing her physical health.

She paid no mind to the list of scars that littered her body, all of which were luckily either easily hidden by clothing or were faded to the point of being undetectable by the naked eye.  She briefly noticed that her alterations didn’t show up on the list, confirming to her once again that they were now, for all intents and purposes, as much a part of her as her eyes and ears were.  Hermione even managed to hold back the despair that always crept up her spine when she was presented with proof that the dark rituals that’d been forced upon her had tainted her core, just as it had back when McGonagall hinted that both she and Harry just _felt_ dark, and as it did once again when the spell detected it.  However, no emotional fortifying on her part could have prepared her for the last item listed on the readout.

“What is it Hermione?  What’s wrong?” Harry asked anxiously when he saw Hermione beginning to pale.

Shakily, Hermione lowered her hands down and interlaced her fingers above her belly.  Her eyes, which had tracked her hands’ descent, quickly snapped back up to meet Harry’s when he took a step forward and wrapped his toned arms around her slight frame. 

Quietly, Harry whispered, “What is it, baby?”

When Hermione flinched at the word ‘baby’ he began to get suspicious, but speculation was made obsolete when his wife grabbed his hands and slowly placed them on her belly and said, “I’m pregnant, Harry.”

The lovely Mrs. Potter seemed to have successfully short-circuited Harry’s brain as her lover was stood silently dumbstruck for a moment before he responded to the news.

“Wha-really?  For real?  Like, with a baby and stuff?”  Harry asked dumbly, shocked at the news.  His eyes, which had been narrowed in concern studying Hermione’s face before, were now wide open and trained on the flat belly his hands were touching at the moment.  He started to gently rub his deadly hands over Hermione’s abdominals, trying to feel the life tucked safely away inside.  Carefully watching her lover to judge his reaction, Hermione felt a tightness in her chest loosen when Harry’s surprised expression morphed into one of amazed awe.  When his pawing of her belly showed no sign of stopping, Hermione brought her hands up and cupped her husband’s stubble’d jaw and manually redirected his gaze back to her face.

“Yes, darling.  With _our_ baby.  According to the spell, we’re going to be parents!”

Hermione instantly transformed from a ground-bound biped into a spinning, flying missile as Harry picked her up and spun her around.  He then just-as-quickly set her back down with an anxious expression on his face.

“Oh, Merlin!  I’m sorry!  Is that ok?  Picking you up didn’t hurt anything, right?  Oh man!  Me, a dad?  God, Hermione, what if I’m terrible?!  What if I screw our kid up?!  How’m I supposed to know what ta- oh, oh!  Books!” Harry suddenly exclaimed, his frenzied fretting coming to an abrupt end as he looked at Hermione in askance.  “There’ve gotta be books written about parenting, right love?  Right.  Of course there are.  Oh, but pregnancy!  I’ve gotta read up on that too.  Because you’re pregnant.  With my child…”  Suddenly Harry’s jaw shut closed with an audible *click* as his eyes focused on Hermione so intently that she jumped a little bit. 

Hermione watched as Harry seemed to physically absorb the knowledge that she was carrying his child; noting how his eyes became slightly dilated and his breaths took on a ragged quality.  He then silently, almost eerily, gently took hold of her sides and walked them back to the bed, until the backs of her knees hit the edge of the mattress, upon which he gently lowered her down onto.  He then gently placed one knee, and then the other, on either side of her, straddling her pelvis.  By now his pupils were completely dilated and he was almost panting above her.  Despite his odd behavior, Hermione wasn’t worried in the least; not that she’d ever been afraid of Harry before, but especially because she knew exactly what was going on.

Their changes were still pretty raw, but the two of them had learned a lot about their new selves.  While their most obvious post-ritual modifications were physical, she and Harry both knew that the important changes were ones that were much more than skin deep.  Hermione could tell by looking into Harry’s eyes at that moment that his demonic blood was influencing him.

Very quietly, Harry asked, “Is there anything you need, love?  Anything at all?  Something to eat?  Drink?  How’s the temperature?  Any soreness?  Just tell me what you want and I’ll make it happen,” Harry said with tenderness in his voice, never breaking eye contact with his mate.

After they had escaped from Voldemort’s clutches, the two had scoured dozens of libraries in search of information to see if there was any way to reverse Voldemort’s work.  While unfortunately most books had nothing on the rituals at all, and those that did have something all concurred that the changes would be permanent, they did learn quite a bit about their new bodies.  Studying up on the relics which had been infused with Hermione proved easy enough, but the demon lore they researched was very varied.  There was very little in the way of consistency in the tomes they read, making trying to figure out how Harry’s changes might affect him frustrating.  Surprisingly enough, information on demonic relationships, both familial and romantic, was pretty much the only thing that was the same across the board.  Hermione knew that whereas before Harry would have been dedicated to any family he may have had and loved her and their child with all of his heart, his demonic blood ramped up his devotion to those of his blood and his mate to an insane degree.  With her being pregnant, he simply wouldn’t be able to help himself.  She knew that for the next nine months Harry would be very possessive, clingy, and protective.  She also knew that he would be treating her like a queen though, her wellbeing, happiness, and comfort becoming his highest priorities, not that they weren’t already.

While Hermione knew that this behavioral oddity should make her feel cautious and uneasy, all she could manage was fond amusement and affection towards her suddenly clingy partner.

“No, darling, I’m quite fine right now.  I’ll let you know if that changes, however,” Hermione whispered back, Harry’s lips having descended down to less than an inch above hers while she’d been responding.

“Good,” Harry purred back, sending shivers down Hermione’s armored spine.

When his lips completed their journey and landed upon hers, Hermione knew that they wouldn’t be getting much done that day.

*-*+*-*

After a lengthy session spent _celebrating_ the joyous news,Harry and Hermione were once again up and out of bed, making their way to the kitchen to satisfy a different kind of hunger.  Half an hour later and the two were sat down across from each other on either side of the ridiculously long table that in the past had been used to seat the members of the Order of the Phoenix.  The dark oak of the masterfully carved table combined with the candlelit steak, baked potato, and green bean dinner Harry and Hermione had just made helped to set a romantic mood.  Before they dug in, Harry, with a megawatt smile spanning the length of his face, raised his glass of pumpkin juice (Hermione decided to forgo wine and he was sympathetic) into the air in a toast.

“To us,” he said, while staring into Hermione’s eyes.  “To our friends in the past,” he whispered, dropping his gaze for a second in acknowledgement.  “And to our family, in the future,” he finished, speaking warmly and squeezing Hermione’s hand which had grasped his own when he’d raised his glass.

As the two went to take a sip of their beverages in celebration, their eyes suddenly widened when a third party made itself known with a toneless interruption.

“Your jubilation is… premature, mortals.”

Cold dread rushed through their veins, but neither surprise nor fear had the power to paralyze Harry or Hermione anymore; not after so many years spent waging war against the nightmarish forces Voldemort had commanded.  Those years of hard won instincts took over now as the two tried to spring up and away from the intruder, but it was all for naught, as they found their bodies unresponsive from the neck down, not allowing them to do anything more than turn and look upon the one who had disturbed them.

Try as they might, neither could make out the figure with any reliable clarity.  Though it was not obscured in any way, their eyes could only decide that the figure was a brightly colored humanoid; their brains seemingly incapable of processing the invader’s true form beyond that.  It was an odd feeling, but still not enough to halt either of the two’s attempts to free themselves.  However, with none of their wandless magics responding and even Harry’s extra appendages paralyzed, the situation was beginning to look grim.  Realizing that their situation wouldn’t be solved so easily, Harry decided to engage the being in conversation in order to buy Hermione time to work out a plan of action to deal with their predicament.  While he was great at thinking up effective strategies on his feet, he acknowledged that solving this problem might take more brain-power and finesse than he had to spare.

After conveying his plan to Hermione with a quick look, Harry turned to the incomprehensible being and asked, in a harsh whisper that promised pain, “Who are you?”

He got the feeling that the being was giving him a scornful look, but its lack of discernible features made it impossible to be sure.  Still, it responded to his question.

“The closest word you have to describe me would be Fate, although I’ve come to you more in my capacity as Death.”

The being’s answer did little to calm the tension gnawing away at Harry, and a slightly panicked look from Hermione made it all but impossible for him to keep himself reigned in.  As it was, his muscles still began to bulge, with green arcs of magic the likeness of electricity beginning to dance around him; a sure sign that his control over his demonic side was slipping.  Thankfully he managed to keep from losing it, but his tone was noticeably more menacing when he next spoke.

“And what the _fuck_ does that mean, exactly?  Why are you here?”

The distaste in the being’s voice was even more evident when it responded, apparently taking offense to Harry’s line of questioning.

“I’ll get straight to the point; lowering myself to this form is _quite_ degrading.”  The self-proclaimed ‘Fate’ responded, before it swung one arm over and pointed directly at Hermione’s belly.  “Your spawn, as it stands, will not survive to its nativity.  The dark magics you and your partner have been doused in will cause its premature death, despite whatever efforts or measures you may take to avoid it.”

Fate’s words couldn’t have produced a stronger reaction from the two if it had tried.  Harry, at what sounded distinctly like a threat against his family, finally lost control and entered a state he’d forsaken after the final battle against Voldemort.  His demonic side began to take over, lengthening his canines, dilating his pupils, and turning his veins black from the dark magic running through them.  Short arcs of green electricity danced over the top of his skin, casting the room in an unsettling emerald glow.  Hermione’s new appearance was no less intimidating however, an impressive feat considering just how deadly the male Potter looked at the moment.  Where once had been a frightened nineteen year old woman now sat a humanoid the color of wet, metallic black paint. The glistening ruby shards which framed her glowing red orbs were the only things besides the sparkling white diamonds that weren’t covered in the coating, standing out even more than before due to their now-dark background and luminescence.  Crimson plasma began to leak menacingly from Hermione’s eyes as a low growl escaped her husband’s throat, signaling that the two were ready to pull out all the stops and go for the kill.

When the two’s struggling suddenly dramatically increased, the entity quickly continued.

“Control yourselves.  Despite the abominations the two of you have become, your efforts are in vain, on top of being pointless.  I’ve come here not to antagonize you, but instead to strike a bargain.  I am willing to change your progeny’s fate, in exchange for your assistance,” Fate explained, its voice having lost its scornful tone and instead becoming emotionless.

Harry and Hermione both calmed down minutely, although they still maintained their forms, weary of the inhuman entity in general, and not exactly trusting its words at face value.  With supreme effort, Harry managed to calm himself enough to participate in the conversation once again, but Hermione ended up responding before he could.

With nothing but frigid coldness coloring her voice, an otherworldly looking Hermione demanded, “Explain.”

While some of the derision seemed to return to Fate at the order, it still responded.

“Long ago, in a spontaneous act of stupidity, I allowed myself to be baited into creating three items of power.  You know them as the ‘Deathly Hallows’.  I have since lamented their creation, but despite my powers over life and death I remain unable to reclaim them.  This would not be a problem, except that when combined these objects allow a portion of control to be exerted over me, which is unacceptable.  Your world is but one of an unquantifiable number of worlds, and it is in one of these parallel realities that my Hallows are in danger of being united by someone who wishes to exert their will over me.  It is beyond my abilities to personally take a soul before it’s time; interference of that caliber being impossible.  Hiring an agent to do so for me, however, is well within my capabilities.  So, my proposal is this.  I will erect a barrier around your womb which will act as a filter to keep any dark magics from reaching your unborn daughter, protecting her from your malignant essences, and in exchange you will destroy the one who seeks my Hallows in this alternate world.”

When Fate had finished its proposal, Harry and Hermione found that they could control their bodies once again, and Harry wasted no time jumping over the table to stand next to Hermione, still wary of the entity but less hostile now that he knew it meant them no harm.  He figured that there had been ample opportunity for ‘Fate’ to attack them while they’d been incapacitated, and took its freeing them of their paralysis as a good sign, but he kept ready anyway.  No need to leave any openings, lest they be exploited, although if it was telling the truth as he was beginning to suspect it was, Harry was unsure of how well he could defend against Fate should it attack.

While Harry kept vigilant, ready to spring to their defense at a moments notice, Hermione was thinking up and dismissing possible plans of action in her head at a blistering speed, until eventually she decided that more information was required before any decision could be reached.

“Before we decide anything, I have a few questions that need answering.  For example,” she said with narrowed red eyes, still in full battle mode, “what exactly is meant when you say taking a soul before its time is beyond your capabilities?  You sure came down here and incapacitated us easily enough.  Also, why couldn’t you just retrieve your Hallows, if you regret giving them out so much and they can cause you so much trouble?”

Fate took a second to consider the questions, before it responded.

“My role is very well defined in existence.  Actual creation and destruction are beyond my abilities, despite what most may think.  All I am capable of is moving and changing.  Souls, for example.  What you perceive as birth and death is, in reality, simply the recycling of a soul, which I oversee.  There are no real beginnings; no final ends.  While normally I may have been able to interfere and stop the one who seeks to control me, he has taken steps that make his death impossible via the methods available to me.  I believe you two are familiar with that which I speak of.”

Hermione let out a quiet gasp and Harry frowned in unease; horcruxes were truly vile things.  Their attention refocused on Fate when it began speaking again.

“As for why I am unable to retrieve my Hallows, the answer is the same.  I did not _create_ them.  They were parts of me that I moved into normal existence, which have since grown into their own wills.  They… refuse to be reunited with me.”  At this, Fate seemed to flash a quick bust of depression before it recovered.  The two Potters noticed the slip, but made no comment.  After a moment Hermione continued.

“So, while you can’t take direct action in this instance, since the destruction of a horcrux is needed to kill the collector, you _can_ move us to the dimension in question and have us deal with it.  You mentioned,” Hermione paused to clutch her belly protectively and was only half-successful in keeping the pain out of her voice, “that our baby, daughter you said, won’t make it to term without your intervention.  Correct?” Hermione asked while clutching Harry’s free hand like a lifeline; to discover that they were going to be parents only to then hear that their child would not make it to birth hurt in a way neither could deal with.

Neither Harry nor Hermione could detect a hint of untruthfulness in Fate’s curt nod.  After taking a second to center himself, Harry squared his jaw and looked straight at the entity, and said, “One last question.  Why us?  If you truly have access to the entire multiverse, why choose the two of us?”

Fate was silent for a few seconds, taking the time to observe the two before it answered.

“There are a multitude of reasons for why the two of you were chosen.  For the most part, it is because you have already defeated the one I need you to destroy once again.”

Harry’s eyes tightened at the admission, but Hermione seemed to have guessed at least that much already.  They shared a look as Fate continued.

“Another reason for your selection is that you have no exact counterparts in that world.  Neither Harry Potter nor Hermione Granger have ever existed there, instead Daisy Potter and Jasper Granger were born in your places.  While a gender change wouldn’t be enough to avoid a paradox in your case,” Fate said while looking at Harry, “no prophecy was made pertaining to the ‘Dark Lord’s’ downfall there either.  Daisy Potter is nothing more than a talented witch.  This lack of a prophecy is actually one of the very few major divergences between this world and that one.  While not too important in itself, the lack of its existence there means that Voldemort was never defeated.  You have to understand, there are some worlds so similar that you could spend a thousand years studying them and never find the one minute difference between them.  Others are different to the point of being unrecognizable.  The similarities between that world and your own make you two the best ones for the job.”

The two Potters seemed to quickly discuss the subject using only eye contact and body language, until they both turned back to Fate and Harry asked, “When do we need to decide?”

Fate’s, “Now,” made them cringe, but they quickly adopted resolute expressions.  Sharing one last fortifying look with Hermione, Harry intertwined his deadly fingers with Hermione’s now normal ones, her armor having receded back into its deactivated state, and gave Fate a nod and said, “We’ll do it.”

Satisfaction tinged with relief wafted off of the being as it responded.  “Good.  Your possessions will go with you, and all legal issues will be taken care of, both here and there.  Your age will be adjusted appropriately as that world is just a little more than two years behind your own; and before you ask, no, this will neither effect your daughter nor your ritualistic alterations in any way.” 

Relief and disappointment both flashed through Harry, but Hermione seemed to only care that her daughter would be safe.

“You will appear on the train heading to Hogwarts, with only the Headmaster knowing of whatever background story you decide on and your ritualistic changes.  Take care in your cover’s creation, for while I will make the appropriate documentation and memory alterations to back up your claims, once decided upon it will be set in stone.  From there everything will be up to you two.”  Fate took another moment to let all it had said sink in before finishing.  “Ready?” Fate asked.

Hermione had already hardened herself to do whatever needed to be done to protect her daughter, and Harry’s resolve, even without the demonic influence, was never in question.  As one, Harry and Hermione both barked out a forceful, “Do it.” and then, in a flash of white light, they were gone.

 


	2. Chapter Two

**Chapter Two**

Harry blinked the white spots in his vision away to find that he was inside a train compartment with a shaking Hermione in his arms.  Forgoing a study of his surroundings in favor of comforting his mate, Harry pulled Hermione closer to him and pressed a kiss to her forehead.

“Shh, hush baby, hush.  Its ok, everything’s gonna be alright, sweetheart, you’ll see.”  Harry leaned back a little without letting go of Hermione and stooped his head down, trying to establish eye contact with his wife.  When she opened her teary eyes he forced a smile onto his face despite the lance of agony that shot through him at the sight.  “Let’s look at the facts, okay Mione?  We have been sent to an alternate dimension in order to deal with Voldemort once again.  That’s horrible, but if ever people existed for the job, it’s us.  But, ignoring that mess, this is a golden opportunity for us.  You know that you’re all I could ever need, but there’s so much more for us here than there was back home.  We’ll actually be able to finish our educations, we won’t have to deal with the pressures of being famous, and,” Harry whispered, “in nine months the most amazing little girl to ever live will be born.  So it’s not all bad, darling.  We’ll make it through this, I promise.”

Hermione had stopped crying, and had even sprouted a small smile at Harry’s obvious love for their unborn child, but Harry could tell that the daunting task laid before them still had her unsure.  Deciding that words may not be enough in this situation, he leaned in and did his damnedest to convey all of his love and support for Hermione into a passionate kiss, gently guiding her backwards until Hermione’s rear was pressed up against the empty compartment’s windowed side.  Hermione slowly let her worries leave her as Harry began sucking on her neck, deciding that dreading the problem would be of little help and feeling eager to move on and regain back some of the emotional control she usually prided herself in having.

‘Although,’ she thought, ‘if Harry keeps sucking my pulse point like that, control of any kind is gonna be _impossible_.’

It was not to be, however, as just when Hermione let out an erotic moan of encouragement, the compartment door slid open and the two were interrupted by a trio of “Eeps!”

Harry and Hermione, both mildly embarrassed to have been caught in such a compromising position and to have made such an impression on the very first people they’d encountered in this new world, turned to face the new arrivals, momentarily forgetting about their remarkable appearances.

While the delay between Harry and Hermione turning and the gasps let out by the three startled students who had stumbled into the compartment was short, it still allotted enough time for the two to take in the three’s appearances.

There were two girls and a boy, around sixteen if they had to guess, all of whom were garbed in Gryffindor themed Hogwarts robes.  The first and tallest was a pale-skinned girl with straight, coal black hair.  She had deep blue eyes and a reserved air about her.  Harry was faintly reminded of Sirius when he looked at her.

Next in line was who must have been Hermione’s male counterpart, having ridiculously curly short hair and a stack of books held up against his chest by his thin arms.  He was of average height, with eyes the exact same shade as Hermione’s.

The last and most lively looking of the bunch was a short, petite redhead with brown eyes.  Harry and Hermione both immediately thought that she looked like Harry’s mum Lilly had, except with his dad James’ eyes.  They barely managed to keep in their amused snorts at the ironic thought.  Harry was a little put out to note that while she too had glasses, she wore her intelligent looking rectangular, silver wireframe glasses much better than he had his old black circular spectacles back when he’d had need of them during his pre-ritual days.  Interestingly, Harry thought that even if he was blind he’d still have been able to tell that she was his counterpart because of the protectiveness that his demon side felt for her; apparently an alternate version on oneself was as good as a sibling as far as his demonic blood was concerned.

Their observations complete, Hermione, her lips still a little puffy from her husband’s ministrations, quickly reached for Harry’s arm when she realized that strangers could, for the first time, see their alterations.  After they’d escaped Voldemort’s clutches, she and Harry had spent a month in secluded training trying to get used to their new bodies and integrate their new abilities into their combat styles.  Then, after they’d defeated the Dark Lord, they’d spent all of their time relaxing inside Grimmauld Place, save for when they were wed at Hogwarts.  The only person in their old world who had both seen them post-ritual and was still alive had been McGonagall.  Harry had come to the same conclusion, and quickly decided that the only way to show that they weren’t any different than normal teenagers was to act the part.

So, with that in mind, Harry forced a small grin to spread across his face as he stepped forward and said, with a slight blush from earlier still dusting his cheeks, “Hello there.  I’m Harry Evans and this is my wife, Hermione.  We’re new to Hogwarts; gonna be sixth years if I understand correctly.  Umm, sorry about that, by the way, didn’t know the door was unlocked, hehe.”  Despite his best efforts, Harry couldn’t quite hide his embarrassment and ended up falling back on one of his nervous ticks and rubbing the back of his head, messing up his already hopeless hair even more than his snog session with Hermione had.

While Harry was attempting to pat his hair down with an irritated frown stretched across his face, Hermione had both caught on to what he was doing and also remembered Fate’s warning.  With it in mind, she quickly put together a believable backstory for them that wouldn’t cause too much suspicion, was close to the truth, and explained their strange appearances.

“Um, no-no, that’s uh, okay,” the curly haired brunette boy stammered out, his two companions both looking only slightly less embarrassed than him.  “We were just looking for a, uh, an empty compartment,” the boy said, making an attempt to maintain eye contact and failing.  Finally, the taller black haired girl seemed to physically overcome the awkwardness she was feeling and step forward.

“Yes, sorry about that.  I’m Clementine Black, this bumbling mess is Jasper Granger, and short-stuff here is Daisy Potter.  Nice ta meet you both,” she said while extending a hand that, despite a few scratches on it, was well manicured and tipped with pink painted nails.  After carefully taking her hand and pressing the customary kiss onto the back, Harry then repeated the process with Daisy and shook hands with Jasper; Hermione stepping forward and doing the appropriate greeting gestures as well after him.

Harry was silently impressed by how little the three seemed to react to either of their appearances.  He knew that they looked strange; besides his wings which were tucked away out of sight on the inside of his shirt, all of his demonic alterations were on display, and while Hermione’s bejeweled face may not seem overtly strange, Arkay’s Skin looked odd enough to make her stand out all on its own; looking every bit the unnatural substance it was.

 He was also studying the three a little bit in turn; interested despite himself in his and Hermione’s counterparts, and eager to see who, he was guessing, was the daughter of Sirius Black.  Hermione had managed to decide on a pretty solid cover by the time everybody had been introduced, and took over conversing with the three as Harry continued his observations.

“Well, now that we’ve been introduced, why don’t you sit with us?  We don’t mind sharing and it would be ever so nice to learn a little bit about Hogwarts from students who’ve been there for years.  Unless you have somewhere else to be, or course, in which case we won’t hold you?”  Hermione added on, giving the three an easy way out that would put their seemingly accepting nature to the test.  Presented with the opportunity to get away from the odd couple, would the three be too unsettled with their appearances to stick around?

The two Potters, now Evans, were pleasantly surprised when Daisy Potter took the lead and let out a beaming smile before plopping down across from them, with only a quick, “Nah, here’s good.  Thanks!”

Jasper, who seemed to have conquered his previous shyness, seemed delighted and approving of Daisy’s easy acceptance; although his mild glee may have _actually_ been more at the opportunity to satiate his curiosity than any pride in his friend, although he did shoot a pleased smile at Daisy as he sat down on her right, placing him firmly in a window seat. 

Clementine smiled a very fond smile at Daisy before she took the remaining spot on her left, conveying a surprising amount of tenderness in the simple action; clueing Harry and Hermione in to the fact that the Potter’s quick acceptance of their oddities meant quite a bit to the dark haired girl as well.  While Harry merely noted the interaction and moved on, a suspicion formed in Hermione’s head that the light scratches populating the otherwise elegant Clementine seemed to support as well.  She was soon forced to put her musings aside however when Jasper Granger seemed to, in a manner eerily similar to herself, finally lose control over his curiosity and break social interaction standards by questioning them about their appearances.

“So,” he said while looking at the couple, “are either of you actually human?  I’ve read about Veela and other such beings having claws while still being humanoid, but I don’t think I’ve ever read about one with your markings as well.  Are those shards _imbedded_ in your skin? And what exactly _is_ on your neck?  It’s not a tattoo, right?  Looks like it’s above the skin from over here.  And is it just me, or are your eyes glowing? And- oh, oh no!  Oh dear!” Suddenly the young Granger seemed to come back to himself and realize how invasive, almost insensitive, his line of questing was.  His shoulders curled up and he dropped his stubble-free chin to his chest, seeming quite ashamed all of a sudden.

While Harry wrapped an arm around her shoulders in support, Hermione found that she took very little offense to her quasi-little brother’s line of questioning.  She knew firsthand that there wasn’t an ounce of malicious intent in his inquiries, as she too housed the same burning curiosity inside of her as well.  Seeing this as a good opportunity to provide the cover story she had crafted earlier, as she _really_ didn’t want to test and see just how long they could go without verbalizing a backstory before Fate retracted its offer to alter memories and create paperwork to support her claims, Hermione answered Jasper’s questions.

“Well,” she started, acknowledging the nonverbal plead for forgiveness Jasper was sending them with a simple wry smile, “I seriously doubt that you haven’t read about our kind before, seeing as how much literature there’s been written about witches and wizards, you not coming across even a mention would be quite strange.”  Silencing Jasper’s interruption before he could even voice it with a raised hand, Hermione explained.  “It’s a little bit of a story, but as I understand it we’re in for quite a lengthy ride, correct?”  When the three across from her nodded their different colored heads, even though she knew exactly how long the trip was, she began what was to be their new official past; trusting in her partner’s cleverness and knowing that Harry would be able to keep up with her ploy.

“Both Harry and I were born and raised in Manningtree, a tiny town over in Essex.  Its’ population is so small, in fact, that besides Harry’s parents, we were the only magicals in the entire town.  Coincidentally, I performed my first feat of accidental magic, a summoning charm directed at a book, when I was four while Harry and his parents were visiting, which scared my parents witless and surprised his.  Mister and Missus Evans eventually calmed my folks down and explained everything, and from then on magic was a part of my life.”

Harry had swiftly figured out what Hermione was doing and decided to keep quiet unless directly asked a question, lest he accidentally mess up a part of her tale.  Still, as he listened, he couldn’t help but wish that her version of events was the truth.

“When my eleventh birthday came and I received my Hogwarts letter, Harry’s mum and dad convinced my parents that, with all the anti-muggle sentiments permeating Wizarding Britain, I would be better off giving Hogwarts a pass.  This was also when they finally admitted that they were being specifically sought after by a group of dark wizards and that Harry wouldn’t be going to Hogwarts either due to this.  So, instead of attending a magical boarding school, we were taught magic by Harry’s parents and their friends at home.”

Hermione took a fortifying breath, her heart clenching at the thought of the parents she’d sent away to Australia with memory charms and never retrieved out of fear.  Harry scooted a little bit closer to her, silently offering her comfort at what he knew was a tough subject for her.  A few seconds of silence later, Hermione continued.

“Everything was great, we were learning magic and falling in love and life was wonderful, up until last October, when a trusted friend of Harry’s parents betrayed us.”

Harry sucked in a breath, not ready for _that_ sudden splash of truthfulness Hermione had painted into their backstory, despite the wisdom he saw in keeping things as close to reality as possible.  A stealthy squeeze of the hand was all the comfort Hermione could offer him, lest she draw attention to his surprise, but he appreciated it all the same, and quickly regained his wits and changed his expression to one of anger, which was easy.  He also hardened himself to whatever else Hermione felt was necessary to tell, resolving to not ruin her hard work.

“Last Halloween the group after Harry’s parents, after having been told our location by the traitor, attacked us mid-celebration.  We were… taken by surprise.  We’d thought that-well, we mistakenly trusted that we were hidden away; safe and sound.  Our parents and their friends fought back but it was… it was just hopeless,” Hermione whispered, sniffling at the memory of the final battle at Riddle Manor where all that had remained of the Order had fought to the death against the Death Eaters, buying her and Harry enough time to take Voldemort and his second in command Bellatrix Lestrange down for good.  While their past needed to be altered in the tale for obvious reasons, Hermione refused to not at least acknowledge their fallen comrades’ roles in the defeat of the dark lord in some way.

“We were the only ones spared, having _proven_ our usefulness by taking out so many of our attackers.  Instead of killing us, they stunned us and took us with them.  Their _vile_ leader and his _partner_ ,” she continued, unable to keep the black venom she felt for Bellatrix _bloody_ Lestrange out of her voice, “had been crippled in the attack, and came to the conclusion that the only thing they could do was move their souls into new bodies.”  Hermione’s voice was devoid of any emotion, including sadness, as she said this.  It was the truth for the most part.  While it had only been Bellatrix who’d been paralyzed in the fight that saw the two of them captured, all of Voldemort’s horcruxes had also been destroyed by that point.  The rituals they had been put through had indeed been in preparation for their possession at the hands of the dark lord and his, surprising as it was to learn at the time, lover.

“Six months’ worth of dark rituals later, and we were what you see before you now, customized _meat-suits_ made especially for two very dark _fucks_.”  Here Hermione stalled, trying to decide whether or not to include the part about their ‘betrayer’ Peter Pettigrew and his guilt fueled freeing of them, which had actually happened.  Eventually she decided against it, realizing that if she included him she would either have to lie about his demise or admit that she and Harry had torn him apart despite his attempt at ‘redemption’.

By that point they had both been made into what they were today; a demonic family man and a wrathful witch packed full of dark artifacts.  Attempted redemption or not, the man had personally caused the death of both of Harry’s parents, and Sirius’ imprisonment, and the attempted murder of Harry, _and_ the _successful_ murder of Cedric Diggory, AND the resurrection of Voldemort, on top of whatever other vile deeds he’d carried out as a Death Eater.  The man’s evil was only surpassed by his pathetic cowardice, and she felt no remorse for the way she and her lover had ripped him to pieces before they’d fled Riddle Manor.

Instead of the truth, that they’d been freed, trained for a month, and then attacked Riddle Manor with everything they had, including the remains of the Order of the Phoenix, Hermione instead simply said, “Eventually, we got lucky, we broke free, and we cleaned house.  A quick stay in Saint Mungo’s where they patched us up and told us that our changes were irreversible, a quicker visit to the Ministry of Magic to file for and acquire full emancipation, and,” Hermione said, shifting her gaze over to Harry and squeezing his hand, “a very lovely wedding later, the two of us were enrolling at Hogwarts as sixth year students,” she finished, offering the shocked trio sitting across from her an empty smile.

Daisy Potter, as a newly-sixteen year old girl, just didn’t know what to think.  She knew that her parents were part of the Order, but the idea of losing everybody you loved in one go and then being physically manipulated just so that your body could serve the ones who’d killed your family in the first place was too horrible for her to really comprehend.  The hairs on her arm had stood up near the end of Hermione’s grim tale, making goose bumps appear despite the moderate temperature of the compartment.  Daisy liked to think of herself as a young woman who was ready for adult life, but she still found herself clinging onto her longtime friend Clementine’s robe sleeve by the end of the grim tale.

Clementine was quite shocked as well.  While certain truths of her existence made her the best prepared of the three to deal with the tale, it was disturbing nonetheless.  At least her burden had come in a nonviolent way, accidentally really.  She tried to imagine being strapped down to a table as her body was altered, and abandoned the thought when it sent a shiver down her spine and she felt Daisy grasping her sleeve.  ‘Poor Daisy,’ she thought.  Her friend was a ball of innocent sunshine, only capable of mischievous meddling and retaliation at her worst.  Clementine knew a little bit more about what kind of threats the Order, and their parents in turn, went up against, but Daisy only knew that they worked with Dumbledore against the Dark Lord.  Clementine was glad that her ‘aunt’ and ‘uncle’ had been able to raise the girl so well, while preserving her innocence, despite the troubling times they lived in.  She gently pried Daisy’s fingers from around her sleeve and grasped her smaller hand instead.  She offered what she hoped was a reassuring squeeze, and turned back to the two across from her.

Jasper was a white as a ghost, both from the tale and the horrible feeling that he’d just forced them to relive it simply to satisfy his curiosity.  While his tongue, which got ahead of him sometimes, had hurt more than a few feelings in the past, he’d never felt like as big of a screw up as he did at that moment.  As he tried to both process the terrible tale and work up the courage to apologize for making them tell it, he almost missed Hermione leaning forward and taking one of his hands between her own.

“Uh-uh hey now, none of that.  I recognize that expression, and believe me, if I didn’t want to share our story with you guys I wouldn’t have.”

Jasper looked up with watery eyes, confused as to what she meant.

Hermione gave his hand a little squeeze as she offered up a small, warm smile, before she leaned back and intertwined her fingers with one of Harry’s claws.  “I get it, our appearances are quite strange.  If glamours worked on us, I’d be sure to wear one, but they don’t, and we are going to look like this for the rest of our lives, so I figured that there was no point in keeping the _‘whys’_ a secret.  It sucked, still does to be quite honest, but it is what it is, and neither whining nor being secretive are going to help us,” Hermione finished, hoping that her words had helped settle her counterpart at least a little.

“It’s like this,” Harry said, mildly surprising the compartment due to how silent he’d been while Hermione had told their story, “we are what we are, and I refuse to be embarrassed about it.  If a little bit of insight might make others a tad more accepting, then I’m all for it, ‘cause after all the shit we went through, I’m certainly not gonna apologize for the way I am, and I’m _definitely_ not gonna put up with any shit headed our way.  So don’t feel bad for asking questions, you’re not gonna offend us or anythin’.”

Jasper, with his eyes closed, let out a relieved sigh and offered the two apologies anyway.

“Still, sorry about that.  Swear I’m more tactful ninety-nine percent of the time.”

Daisy’s eye roll and her, “Well that’s a lie,” finally managed to break the somber atmosphere and drew a laugh out of the compartment’s occupants.

The rest of the train ride, crazily long as it was, was spent with the two groups getting to know each other better.  Harry found that while Jasper was like a male Hermione, Daisy’s personality was very different than his own had ever been, which he realized was probably due to her parents still being alive.  He was most interested by Clementine however; who he found out was Sirius and Remus’ blood-adopted daughter.  He’d had no idea the two had that type of relationship, although he figured that twelve years _was_ plenty of time for people’s feelings to change.  He also found it humorous how Hermione and Jasper seemed to be drawn towards one another, their similarly bright personalities making for some interesting conversations.

Eventually, after a lengthy and friendship-building trip, the train finally came to a stop at the darkened Hogsmeade Station.  After the group had disembarked from the magic-run steam-machine, Harry and Hermione said their goodbyes and headed over to a booming Hagrid who was calling for the “Firs’ years,” to come to him.  While they garnered more than a few curious looks from the surrounding students, their changes were largely hidden by the cover of night, meaning that the people who cared to look were mostly confused as to why two of the first years were so tall, not that any of them cared enough to go over and ask.

Finally, after all of the new students had been rounded up, Hagrid led the group down the dirt path toward the docks.  When they arrived, and after listening to Hagrid give his, “No mor’n four to a boat,” order, Harry and Hermione found themselves waiting until all of the youngsters had grouped off and boarded before claiming one of the last boats for themselves.  With a quick verbal order of, “Forward!” from the half-giant, the boats began their smooth glide across the Black Lake and towards Hogwarts.

Hermione was enjoying the atmosphere, the hushed whisperings of children being the only sound on the still September night.  She was admiring the crescent moon prominently displayed in the clear night sky, surrounded by twinkling stars that only enhanced its beauty.  She was broken from her musings when Harry shifted the shoulder she was leaning against and began talking.

He too must have been aware of their atmosphere’s serenity, for his voice never climbed above a whisper as he said, “S’ incredible, isn’t it?  To think that, out of the billions of people on our planet, and the trillions more choices that those people could have made, and the _infinite_ number of universes that apparently exist, that somehow _we’d_ end up _here_ , on the boat ride to Hogwarts, once again?  What are the odds?”  Harry pondered, almost wistfully.  Hermione smiled and snuggled further into Harry’s shoulder, enjoying his body’s warmth.  As she was getting comfortable, Harry’s thoughts had traveled from the craziness of their situation to the realities associated with said situation.

‘It’s gonna have to be different this go around, shit,’ Harry thought, with memories of the previous war running through his head.  ‘No way I make it through another round of that bullshit, no bloody goddamn way.  I’d go _mental_ , an’ I got too much to live for ta be checking out early.  Right-o then, old boy, let’s think this one through right quick.  A Voldemort who was never banished is bound to have his shit in order, but as long as I play it smart I’ll have the edge.  I’ve got that fuck’s number, so when the time comes to punch his card I should be able to manage, s’long as his stupid soul-jars are in the same places as last time.  It won’t be easy, but it will be _possible._   There’s just gonna be one problem…’  Harry thought, as he turned his head to rest the side of his jaw atop Hermione’s head.

‘Twas beauty, killed the beast,’ Harry thought sardonically, already dreading the impending conversation (argument) he was about to have with the missus.  After smiling for a second at the thought, Harry hardened his resolve and pushed Hermione away a bit so they could do this face to face.  Well that, and it was well difficult to refine his argument against Hermione when the girl was wiggling about on his lap; no doubt that, if questioned, she’d say that she was just trying to get comfy, but _damn_ did it make him want to turn this PG boat ride into an X rated voyage.  Banishing the thoughts away like and angry god, Harry thought, ‘fuck it,’ and decided to just bite the bullet and say what needed to be said.  Like a _man._   Like a man with dignity.  With pride!  A man who was confident in himself, and who could say what was on his mind and stand by it, goddamnit!

“Hey, um, sweetie-pie?”

‘Dammit man, what the hell was that?!?!’

Hermione raised an unimpressed eyebrow, looking at Harry with a what-the-hell-was-that-stupid-ass-name-for, kind of Look.  Hermione was very good at giving Looks, capitalization intended.

Harry turned away and cleared his throat in embarrassment before trying again.

“Well, you see, there’s something I was wantin’ to talk to you about…”

Cue a yes-I-gathered-that-much-dear Look from his partner.

‘Since when did Hermione get so firggen sarcastic?’  Harry thought silently before continuing out loud with, “It’s like this.”

Finally Harry decided to become serious with his wife, straightening up his posture and squaring his shoulders.  Hermione subconsciously mimicked him, adopting an air of cautiousness about her at his sudden change in attitude.

“I’m going to need you for this; we both know that there is no way in hell I’d be able to take Tom down by myself.”  Harry raised his pointer finger to shush Hermione when she made to comment, already knowing what she would say and not wanting to lose his nerve at what would no doubt be a heartwarming declaration of support from his wife.  While Harry felt bad at the frown his cutting her off had put on Hermione’s face, he forged on regardless.  “You’ve always had my back Hermione, ever since first-year Halloween night when you took the rap for me n’ Ron, you’ve been there for me.  But things are different now.  Now, you’re not just my brilliant girlfriend.  _Now_ , you’re my _pregnant wife_.  Pregnant being the operative word here, though the wife bit is important too.  What I’m trying to say is, sweetheart, I’m sorry but you can’t fight out in the field with me anymore, I won’t allow it.”

Harry knew the moment the words left his lips that he really, _really,_ shouldn’t’ve said ‘allow it’, like that.  It came off making him sound like he thought that, as the man of the relationship, he had some sort of right to make Hermione’s decisions for her.  Already feeling the hot water he was in beginning to boil, he rushed to explain.

“Not, ‘I won’t allow it’, like I’m making the choice for you, but more like ‘please-dear-I-feel-very-strongly-about-this’, allow it.”

Slightly assuaged by his explanation, Hermione said, “I know what you meant, Harry, but still, don’t talk to me like that.  Like, ever.  ‘I won’t allow it’.  Pheh, the fuck, like I’m some sort of pet or something.”

Harry winced at her comment, but could see that her indignation at his poor choice of words was already passing.  Taking care to take care, Harry gave it another go.

“Yeah, sorry about that.  You know I didn’t mean it like that.  But you do agree with me, right love?  The middle of a firefight is no place for a pregnant woman.”

When he saw her starting to get huffy again, Harry said, “Like I said earlier, I _need_ you.  I can’t do this alone, but your role in this war has gotta be more passive than last time, because it’s different now.  You know I’m right in this one, Hermione”

Hermione’s heart and protective instincts were warring with her desire to support Harry in the battle against the Dark Lord, with neither side giving an inch.  Finally, after a few silent minutes during which they’d had to duck under the overhang and Hogwarts had come into view, Hermione let out a long sigh and responded.

“Okay, Harry, okay.  I’ll let you take the lead this time.”  Before he could whoop in joy, she continued with a severe expression on her face.  “But only until our daughter is born!  I don’t care how much you plead Harry, I live in this world too, it’s also _my_ daughter who will be growing up here, and I have the same right to protect it and her as you do!”  Hermione’s brow crinkled a bit before she continued by saying, “And don’t think that just because I won’t be heading out to battle that I won’t participate if trouble comes knocking!  You married the wrong woman if you were looking for a girl who’d sit back and let her _man_ protect her.  You know that chauvinistic bullshit pisses me off, and you’ve got another thing coming if you think that it’s anything other than my pregnancy that’ll be keeping me from hunting those bastards down with you!  Do we understand each other?”

Harry could only nod obediently at Hermione’s trademarked no-nonsense attitude.  While it had annoyed him in his earlier years, and indeed still managed to sometimes, Hermione letting her passion for something bleed into her speech usually only served to turn him on these days.  Not that he let his deliciously hot wife’s words just wash over him or whatever; when she talked like this he heard every word she said, and in this case he couldn’t help but wish that Hermione was just that little bit less stubborn.  Still, he’d take what he could get, and the two sealed the deal with a kiss.

When they parted, they realized that they had arrived at some point and were among the last few still in their boats.  Harry quickly hopped back onto dry land and did the gentlemanly thing, offering his hand to his wife; whether chivalry was equal to feminism or not, Harry Potter just didn’t have it in him to _not_ help his pregnant wife out of a boat.  That’d be ludicrous.  Thankfully Hermione didn’t seem to mind too much as she easily accepted his clawed hand’s steady support as she hopped out of the boat effortlessly; while technically pregnant, she knew that she couldn’t be more than a month in and her lithe figure won by years of fighting wasn’t yet encumbered by a swollen belly.  After dusting themselves off, they followed behind the first years as the group was led towards the doors of the Great Hall, greedily taking in the achingly familiar scenery.  In this world inhabited by strange new people, the couple took comfort in the profound _sameness_ that was Hogwarts.

As the two were enjoying being back inside of Hogwarts’ homely stone walls, they were suddenly drawn out of their state of reminiscence by the abrupt appearance of the school’s ghosts and the shrieks they drew from the firsties.  Smiling fondly and shaking her head in disapproval at the tradition, Harry and Hermione respectively turned to look at the stern faced witch they both knew and loved as she exited the Great Hall and came to stand in front of the group, allowing for the rest of the students seated at their house tables to be seen for just a second.

Once McGonagall had finished conversing with Hagrid she thanked him and let him head into the Great Hall, the surrounding students getting a better look at the room in which they would be having the majority of their meals for the next seven years.  Not allowing the group’s attention to wander, Professor McGonagall cleared her throat and began what seemed a well-rehearsed introduction.

“Attention, students, quiet down now; a few words before your sortings, if you will?”  With the students, antsy to head inside, quickly going silent, she continued.  “Very good.  Now, before you go in, it is important for you to understand how your sorting will affect your experience here at Hogwarts.  For the grand majority of each year, for the next seven years, you will spend your time studying in your house dormatories, eating at your house table, and attending, befriending, and generally living with your housemates.  While here, the boys and girls of your house will become like a family for you, being rewarded and punished as a group via house points.  While you are ultimately responsible for yourself, through house points you will learn that your negative actions: late work, tardiness, and general rule-breaking, have a larger impact than your immediate punishment, and also that your positive actions: question-answering, peer-assisting, and exemplary work, will see your house gain points, teaching you that the successes of an individual benefit their group as well.

There are four houses at Hogwarts, each equally as noble as the others and each championing different core values.  Gryffindor’s Lions, picked for their bravery and senses of honor, will spend their years garbed in red and gold with myself serving as their Head of House.  Hufflepuff’s Badgers, known for their loyalty and work ethic, are adorned in black and yellow and will have the pleasant Pomona Sprout to lead and guide you as Head of House.  Ravenclaw’s Eagles, all knowledge seekers and owners of great wit, can be identified by their sharp blue and bronze trimmings and will enjoy Filius Flitwick’s cheerful and intelligent guidance as their Head of House.  Slytherin’s Snakes, cunning and ambitious, will spend seven green and silver years with Horace Slughorn as their Head of House.”

When she had finished her speech, her slight distain for Slytherin house kept mostly from her tone to the point that only Harry and Hermione picked it up, she then called for the first years to line up single-file before heading over to the two obviously not eleven year olds who had remained unnoticed by the younglings by staying behind them.

“Mister and Missus Evans, I presume?” the stern professor asked, reacting remarkably little to the two’s appearances.  Beyond a slight widening of her eyes and a quick, intense study of the two, McGonagall showed no other reaction to their oddities, leading them to correctly assume that the Headmaster had filled the staff in on at least the basics of their situation. 

The two offered the professor small smiles before Harry stepped forward and offered his clawed hand, which the professor took.  Leaning forward and pressing the customary kiss onto the back of McGonagall’s barely-wrinkled hand, Harry said, “It’s a pleasure, professor.  I do hope that we were correct in following the first years rather than heading up with the carriages,” Harry said with a questioning lilt to his voice, “We met a couple of your lions on the Express and they were kind enough to let us in on the sorting ceremony, so our thinking was that we were to accompany the other unsorted students.  Were we correct?”

‘At least he has decent manners,’ McGonagall thought.  She then, after resisting an eye roll at Harry’s charm, made to reassure the two.  “Yes, Mr. Evans, the two of you are right where you’re supposed to be.  Now, I was just coming over to welcome the two of you to Hogwarts and to let you know that your names will be called for sorting, after a quick introduction by the Headmaster, before the first years, to help keep from turning your attendance into a spectacle.  Are you both ready?”

After taking a moment to feel gratitude for the kind old man’s thoughtfulness, the two ‘Evans’ nodded in agreement, after which they were led to the front of the line by McGonagall.  None of the first years complained at being skipped, since the thought of being the focus of the entire hall’s attention by being in the front was nerve-wracking, not to mention they were getting their first good look at the two and were far too shocked or scared to say anything.

 As Minerva pushed the great oaken double doors open and swept inside, Harry and Hermione, followed by the first years, trailed behind her.  While the entire group was feeling quite nervous, only the firsties let their emotions show, Harry and his lover having both donned the carefully crafted masks of boredom they’d created back in their days as prisoners in Riddle Manor.  Compared to there, where nearly any kind of emotion had to be hidden away lest it be used against them, resisting the temptation to fidget under the mutterings and surprised expressions of the hall’s occupants took no great effort, despite the intensities their whisperings climbed to when they caught sight of the two.  While Hermione’s short hair was only slightly uncommon among witches, and Arkay’s Skin was somewhat hidden beneath her robe, the half of it that _did_ show, combined with her jewel populated face, of which only the diamonds looked normal, gave her a very striking appearance.  When compared to Harry, however, Hermione looked downright ordinary.  As he strode in, keeping every emotion other than disinterest from showing on his face, everybody noticed the black claws which swung easily at his sides.  And, while only a few of the hall’s occupants noticed the slight glow to his eyes, almost all of them saw the devilish tail which swayed to and fro, lazily drawing circles and other shapes in the air behind him.  By the time McGonagall finally signaled them to stop, about ten paces away from the three legged wooden stool, upon which sat the ragged old Sorting Hat, everybody in the hall had their attention focused on the two strangers at the head of the first years.

Albus Dumbledore, deciding to spare the two who he knew had been through quite enough already any more drama, swiftly rose from his quasi-throne at the head of the staff’s table and cleared his voice, his powerful presence combined with the gesture proving to be powerful enough to draw the hall’s attention and earn their silence.  Sparing the two a quick sympathetic look, Dumbledore began his introduction.

“It is not often that we have a young man or woman come to us in pursuit of an education who have already begun learning magic elsewhere, but this year we are blessed with two such cases.  Students, staff, please join me in welcoming to Hogwarts, sixth year students, Harry and Hermione Evans!”

While all of the staff and about a quarter of the students clapped politely, the majority of the hall stayed silent as they were either too shocked, confused, or revolted to join in with the greeting.  Neither war veteran let those students who stayed quiet get to them, instead returning the kind gesture with warm smiles directed at the staff table and those students closest to them who’d clapped, namely the trio they’d met earlier.  When the applause died down, which didn’t take long, McGonagall cleared her throat and began the sorting.

“When your name is called, you will come forward, sit on the stool, and place the sorting hat on top of your head.  Harry Evans,” she called, offering him a look that managed to look supportive despite her lack of a smile.

Harry, after a quick turn and smile directed at Hermione, strolled forward with a calm expression on his face, having lost his apathetic mask after the Headmaster’s kind gesture.  With an exaggerated waggling of his eyebrows directed at Hermione, Harry grabbed the tip of the Sorting Hat with his tail and placed it on his head with a flourish, before gracefully taking a seat on the stool.  His mischievous gesture and Hermione’s accompanying tinkling laughter seemed to ease some of the, well, _unease_ from the students.

Back on the stool, the sorting hat was judging Harry’s character silently.  Though it couldn’t actually read its wearer’s mind or see their memories, it could get a general feel of the person under its brim’s personality.  The overwhelming sense of loyalty the young man below it felt almost had it saying Hufflepuff, but the equal amounts of reckless courage and deep seeded beliefs of right and wrong had the hat reconsidering its assessment.  A few more seconds were spent with the aged cap mulling the decision over, but eventually it saw that there was only one house in which its wearer could belong to.

After a mighty cry of, “Gryffindor!” the leathery cap was removed by Harry and gently set back on top of the ancient stool.  As Harry made his way over to the Gryffindor table to the, unsurprisingly, less-than-rowdy applause of its members, Hermione was called up for her turn under the headpiece.  Just as it had in the past, the Sorting Hat was once again swayed away from placing the brilliant witch in Ravenclaw by the young woman’s profound sense of fairness and her bone-deep bravery.  After another exclamation of, “Gryffindor!”, and another round of applause from her new housemates, Hermione made her way over to her husband, who had found them seats across form the trio they’d met on the Hogwarts Express.  She only had time to share a quick kiss with Harry and offer the trio a smile before the next student, an actual first year this time, was called forward to be sorted.

Joining their housemates, who had mercifully left them alone, in congratulating their newest members, Harry and Hermione were both more than ready to dig into the lush feast that popped up after the last eleven year old had been sorted and Dumbledore had given his customary welcoming speech.  After all, besides a snack from the trolley on the Express, neither had had anything to eat since dinner a day and a half ago.  As Hermione was loading their plates down with thick slices of ham, it being out of Harry’s reach, she was suddenly overcome with a craving for red potatoes.  She looked left, and then right, but even her keen eyes couldn’t spot the spuds she desired, and without bothering to censure herself she whispered, “How in the hell are there no red potatoes at an English feast?”

Harry, not quite hearing exactly what she’d said, “Hmm?” ‘d in question while accepting the basket full of rolls Jasper was passing to him.

Hermione placed his plate, now weighted down with juicy pink ham, back in front of him and accepted a roll before replying with a slight frown, “Nothing, I was just think about how good a few sliced, buttered red potatoes would be right about now.  You know how I like them, right Harry?  With some butter, salt, and a little bit of pepper…”

Suddenly Harry stilled, his emerald orbs focusing intently on Hermione’s goddess-like visage, the flickering light given off by the candles floating overhead reflecting back at him in her rubies.  As a half-demon he literally _couldn’t_ forget, but Hermione admitting to having a craving suddenly reminded him that his mate was carrying their child, subsequently reminding him that it was _his_ responsibility to see her wants and needs met.  A spark of devoted madness flickered behind Harry’s focused orbs as he looked at the woman who carried his seed.

While Jasper had been drawn into conversation by one of the younger Gryffs, Daisy and Clementine were both looking up when they noticed Harry’s sudden change in demeanor.  While they’d both absently noticed that he was quite handsome back on the express, the majority of the attention they’d spared to his looks had gone to his claws and tail, before they’d been too swept up into Hermione’s telling of their tragic story to bother with such thoughts.  Said ‘thoughts’ were suddenly racing through both girls minds as they were struck by just how intense the young man looked at that moment, his angular face’s sudden lack of emotion contrasting dramatically with his eyes which had darkened with _something_.  That same unknown factor was audible in his voice when he replied to Hermione’s seemingly offhanded remark with a breathy, “Oh?”

His sparkling spouse must have heard the peculiar quality of his voice as well, for she turned; she must have also known what it meant better than either of the other girls too, as her whole face lit up in a blush when she saw Harry looking at her with _those_ eyes.

Before his mate could get a word out, Harry suddenly rose from his spot on the bench with an otherworldly grace, his five and a half foot frame inexplicably gaining a towering quality out of nowhere.  Ignoring the questioning looks he was suddenly garnering from the surrounding students and some of the staff, Harry slowly let his gaze sweep about the hall until his eyes landed on something at the one table positioned differently than the rest.  Fluidly stepping over the bench upon which he’d previously been sat, the world-hopper made a beeline for the staff table, specifically for the small platter of red potatoes which sat in front of one of the few people he was scared to interact with.

The beautiful redhead seated behind his prize seemed not to have aged a day past twenty, looking exactly the same as she had in the pictures of her he’d owned in the past.  Lilly Potter, mother of two and Muggle Studies professor according to Daisy, lowered the fork-speared chunk of potato which had been on its way to her dainty mouth and looked up at Harry with a quizzical expression on her face, seeming to be more surprised that he’d randomly come up to her than taken aback by his appearance.  There were two main reasons Harry was dreading interacting with the woman.  Well, really it was just one reason; he was afraid of how she would react to him, as it could be bad either way, in his mind.  Either she would be repulsed by him and shatter his heart, or she would be accepting of him and Hermione and he would instantly fall in love with the woman, which he felt would be a betrayal of his real mother who had _literally_ died for him. 

Regardless of his own feelings on the subject, his mate had expressed her desire for something, and as her husband it was his duty to see her needs fulfilled.  So, manning up, Harry cleared his throat before trying to quietly explain himself to his ‘mother’.

“Excuse me, Professor Potter?” he asked, feigning uncertainty.  As if he could ever confuse this woman for someone else.

“Yes, Mister Evans?  And excuse me for asking but, have we met?  It’s just, you seem quite familiar and you know my name…”  Lilly responded, quite aware of whom he reminded her of but unwilling to just come out and say that he looked _exactly_ like a Potter, due to how odd that would be.  She was honestly curious as to how he knew her name though.

Harry was decidedly proud of himself for not descending into a blubbering pile of mush at the sound of his mother’s voice.  His _mother!_   Keeping his face politely neutral, Harry continued, only managing to stop his voice from hitching with a herculean effort.

“Oh, no, Mrs. Potter, not that I know of.  Actually, Hermione and I met Daisy and her friends on the train and she told me that her mum was a professor here, Muggle Studies if I remember correctly.  The two of you look almost exactly the same so I’d just assumed you were you.  That you were her.  That, uh, she was you?  That you are Daisy’s mum.  Which you’ve already confirmed.  Ugh,” Harry sighed, too tired after the long day to regulate his conversations and make sure he didn’t show the woman in front of him enough of himself to be judged.  All he wanted to do was get his wife her damn potatoes, eat, and curl up around Hermione and go to sleep.  Suddenly dropping the polite aloofness he’d been maintaining all day, Harry pinched the bridge of his nose and simply said, “Look, my wife really wants some red potatoes, and with her eating for two I’m trying to make sure she gets a full plate, so I was really hoping that you wouldn’t mind parting with a few.  You don’t mind, do you, if I grab a bowl of them for her?”

Lilly’s emerald eyes suddenly snapped over to Hermione’s sitting form and studied her, looking for a physical tell of the young woman’s pregnancy.  While only professor McGonagall, who had been sitting to Lilly’s left, overheard him, she too looked surprised at the information, signaling to Harry that the Headmaster hadn’t shared the details of his relationship with Hermione, or her pregnancy, with the rest of the staff; if he himself even knew…

When Lilly’s eyes traveled back to Harry, sparing the wedding band on his left hand a quick look, she offered him a warm smile before nodding her approval.  “Of course, I had no idea.  When did the two of you find out, if you don’t mind me asking?”

Harry, sporting a relieved smile at finally acquiring his treasure, responded to the redhead after he’d absently conjured a glass bowl for the spuds he’d been seeking and floated them out in a line, not noticing the widening of the two professors’ eyes when he did so wandlessly.  “Believe it or not, we actually just found out this morning,” Harry said as his eyes slid back over to where his partner was sat, absently noting that almost nobody in the hall was still paying him any attention, and saw that she was watching him with an amusing mix of exasperation and fondness.  He gave her a mixed expression of his own in return, a smile that was part sheepish acknowledgement that he couldn’t help himself and part a, whatever-you-know-you-love-me defense of his actions.

Lilly watched the exchange intently, perhaps not catching every little nuance but certainly getting the gist of the two’s interaction.  While she wasn’t exactly a nosey witch she was certainly curious, and there was something about the pair that drew her attention.  While true that they had drawn many peoples’ attentions that night, Lilly wasn’t convinced that it was their unique appearances that kept drawing her eye, but for the life of her she couldn’t figure out what else it could be.  Both Lilly and Harry were startled out of their thoughts when McGonagall spoke up, not loud enough to be overheard but still enough to draw the two’s attentions.

“Just this morning?  So she’s your fiancée then, not your wife?”

Harry immediately swelled up in indignation and Lilly inexplicably found herself with the urge to come to his defense.  The young man turned and trained smoldering green eyes, eerily similar to Lilly’s own, on McGonagall for a few moments.  After visibly taming his anger and letting a low breath out, Harry responded to his Head of House.

“While I quite _resent_ your insinuation that I only proposed to _take responsibility,_ I suppose that is what people who are quick to jump to conclusions would think.  But you’re wrong professor.  When Hermione had her first bout of morning sickness she ran from _our_ bed into _our_ bathroom in _our_ house.  I didn’t receive a floo call from my girlfriend telling me that she was pregnant; I had been there panicking next to my _wife_ when we found out together.”

McGonagall looked properly abashed at her faux pas, and Harry realized that he had been just a tad harsh in his words and made to apologize.  “Sorry, Professor.  I didn’t mean to bite your head off or anything, today has just been a long day,” Harry said, lowering his head in slight shame and exhaustion.  Minerva had always supported him back home, and if this McGonagall was anything like his own, she didn’t deserve the scornful tone he’d used.

Still feeling slightly awkward due to her blunder, wanting to apologize, _and_ not wanting to keep the lad from his lady any longer, Minerva said, “That’s quite alright, Mr. Evans.  I too apologize, for assuming things without having taken the time to get to know you.  You don’t seem the irresponsible type, but dealing with young adults is part my profession, and past experiences leave me with the poor inclination to assume sometimes.  Once again, I apologize.  I will of course make the married quarters in Gryffindor tower available to you.  A man should be there for his wife, especially during her pregnancy.  Speaking of which, don’t let me keep you any longer; I believe you came up here originally to get Mrs. Evans a few of these delicious potatoes?”

Lilly smiled a small smile when she saw how easily Harry accepted Minerva’s apology, and even let out a girlish giggle when he suddenly jumped and looked down at the bowl full of potatoes cradled delicately in his black claws.  His enjoyment of the sound of Lilly’s laughter not being quite enough to completely erase his embarrassment, Harry took an abashed step back before responding.

“Ah, yeah, you’re right.  Better get back before they get cold.  It was nice talking to you, Professor Potter, Professor McGonagall.  See ya later,” he said as he started to turn around to walk back.  He was halted by his mother’s call of, “Congratulations, by the way, Harry!”  He wasn’t the only one surprised by the redhead’s outburst or sudden use of his first name; even Lilly looked startled by the slip.  Still, as he let her words sink in, Harry found it impossible to hide the wide grin that spread across his face.  Original or not, his mum had just congratulated him on his daughter!  Flashing Lilly a smile usually reserved for Hermione, Harry didn’t bother to verbalize his thanks, his expression conveying his happiness at her clearly enough.  Lilly found a similar smile growing across her own face at the boy’s cheery grin, once again feeling that strange pull from him that both warmed her heart and made it ache simultaneously.

As she sat mulling the feeling over, still smiling as she looked back down at her plate, Harry made his way over to the Gryffindor table and retook his seat next to Hermione.  The good mood Lilly’s comment had created showed no sign of dissipating and left Harry feeling playful.  Quickly conjuring a velvety red serviette over the bowl, Harry held the container in one hand and, with a slight bow, whipped the napkin away from the bowl, dramatically revealing the red potatoes hidden beneath.  “My queen,” he intoned, absently transfiguring himself a thick, curly black mustache and a little black bowtie to go along with his butler persona, “Your spuds have arrived.”  Harry held the solemn expression for a second before waggling his eyebrows, looking even more ridiculous by maintain the serious expression despite the gesture.  Hermione couldn’t take it anymore and took the bowl from him as her delighted smile morphed into involuntary laughter.  As Harry’s face broke out into a grin as well, the Gryffindors surrounding the two decided to question them on their oddities later, not wanting to intrude on the happy couple.

Almost an entire hour passed as the hall enjoyed the feast, taking the opportunity to catch up with friends they hadn’t seen in two months and exchange stories and gossip.  However, as the meal drew to a close, Albus once again stood up and called the hall to attention with a food-vanishing clap.  With the students falling silent, he began.

“Now that we are all fed and watered, I would like to once again welcome you all back to Hogwarts.  In these trying times, it does my heart good to see you all return, safe and sound, for another year of learning.  I hope you all are as excited as I am for classes tomorrow,” he said, drawing scattered groans from some of the students, putting a smile on his face, “but for now, I bid thee, goodnight.”

Taking that as their signal, the fifth year prefects from each house stood up and called for the first years to follow them, each eager to prove their worth by excelling in their first duties in their new stations.  Once the firsties had been led away, the rest of the students got up and headed out as well.  Harry and Hermione only made minimal efforts to seem to not know where they were going by following their year mates, too caught up in teasing and playing with each other to pay much attention.  After following the rest of their red and gold brethren up to Gryffindor Tower, Hermione and her goofy-acting husband were unsurprised to find Professor McGonagall waiting for them, she having gone up with the first years and their accompanying fifth year prefects earlier.

When the two came into view she waived them over, drawing a few curious glances from their housemates, but for the most part the lions were too tired to pay their two most unique new members any attention.  Getting their giggling under control, the two sorta-newlyweds made their way over to the stern-faced transfiguration instructor, not quite managing to banish the grins from their faces; Hermione’s gem-encrusted face combined with her smile to make her look especially beautiful in the low light.

“I just wanted to let you both know that your room,” McGonagall said to the couple, “is just through that door.”  The transfiguration mistress raised a hand vaguely in the direction of a nice wooden door with golden trimmings, the odd color combination strangely charming instead of ugly as Hermione thought the two colors together would be.  Well, even after all these years, she still couldn’t exactly claim to be a fashionista.  Harry didn’t pay too much attention to the colors of the door to their new ‘home’, too busy taking in the familiar sight that was the Gryffindor common room.  While it’d been years since he’d lived in the tower, when compared to the tent he and Hermione had shared while hunting horcruxes, or worse the cupboard under the stair, only in Grimmauld Place had he ever felt as at home as he did here.  McGonagall made as if to lead them on a tour of their new quarters, but ultimately had to settle for wishing them a goodnight when she saw a distraught first year tearing up, no doubt missing his home.

 Despite the crying of the teary-eyed firstie, Harry’s good mood persisted, as made obvious when he, appropriately enough, picked his wife up bridal style and began to make his way towards their door, ignoring the attention his actions and Hermione’s delighted shriek had drawn.  After dramatically kicking the door open and carefully maneuvering Hermione through the archway, Harry closed the gold trimmed portal behind him with a kick.

While outside the room most of the tower’s occupants were copying Daisy, Jasper, and Clementine’s bewildered expressions, inside the room Harry had made his way, Hermione quite literally in hand, to their bed, ignoring the rest of the room for the most part.  After he’d spun in a circle and gently laid Hermione down on the crimson blanketed four poster bed, Harry crawled on top of Hermione smoothly, taking care to avoid putting pressure on her belly.

“Aye, tonight be lookin’ like a fine night for booty plunderin’,” Harry said, wandlessly conjuring an eye-patch and adopting a pirate accent.  Hermione’s eyes sparkled and she immediately burst out into giggles; Harry had discovered her weakness for impersonations on Harry’s sixteenth birthday when they’d gone to see Independence Day.  He’d been saying some of Will Smith’s one-liners after they’d left while impersonating him and it’d cracked her up.  Over the years he’d gotten even better, and he could often be found busting them out whenever he was feeling sufficiently playful.

“Well?  What say ye?” Harry asked, looking completely ridiculous.

“Aye aye, captain,” Hermione replied, smiling as she pulled Harry down for a kiss.

‘Yes,’ Hermione thought as Harry started lavishing her with kisses as she absently casting a silencing charm over them, ‘maybe this won’t be so bad after all.’


	3. Chapter Three

**Chapter Three**

Harry peeled his gummed eyes apart and slowly frowned, unsure as to where he was and feeling confused. He tried to recall what he had been doing a second ago, or even wherehe'd been, and failed spectacularly. Feeling the first waves of fear enter his system, drying his mouth and turning his muscles leaden, Harry began looking around for his wife, half to confirm her safety and half to not be so  _fucking_  alone.

And he was alone, Harry realized, as he jerkily twisted his head this way and that, spinning around in place over and over again but still finding nothing but  _nothing_ everywhere he looked. Feeling a seed of panic take root in his gut, Harry tried to open his mouth to yell out for Hermione, but was horrified to discover that no sound left his straining gullet.

That seed deep inside  _exploded_  into full blown hysteria as Harry frantically felt around below his nose, searching and searching and  _searching_ with his fingers but finding no hint of a mouth or lips anywhere on his face.

Before the shiver inducing shock had even had a chance to run its course through the terrified teen, a sudden light from behind had Harry whipping around, desperation written plainly across his frightened face. He felt the first flutters of hope in his chest as the inky-blank, empty,  _void_ ,which he'd been trapped in, curled back into and folded on top of itself, yielding to the wonderful luminescence without a fight.

A second passed, though, and in the next instance the glow which had seemed so  _comforting_  and  _divine_  before suddenly seemed sinister, warping from a golden glow into a harsh fluorescence that all but screamed dark intent. The artificial and soulless nature of the rays coaxed truly  _horrific_  memories from deep within Harry's head to the forefront of his mind. Vivid memories of painful surgical knives and darkly chanted rituals, of unloving red eyes and manic, hysterical laughter, and of being strapped down to a big, monstrously cold, shiny metal table all flooded the boy, until all he wanted to do was turn and run, away from the light and back into the darkness where it was safe.

Now-familiar panicked dread surged through his veins, however, when he suddenly found himself unable to flee; perfectly immobilized by a plethora of biting leather straps with polished, golden buckles that held him firmly down against the very table he'd just been thinking about. Recognizing the bindings, as well as the painful coldness seeping into his back from the solid steel he was strapped down to, Harry immediately flailed about, thrashing in animalistic desperation even as he sobbed and screamed in his head; for he still lacked the mouth to do so out loud. All of his struggles came to an abrupt halt though, when suddenly a long, sinister shadow was cast, the tip of which ended in the perfect center of his chest.

Just like it used to.

"Ah, Harry, my boy," rang out a rather pleasant voice which was overflowing with warm undertones even as the cruel, thin lips it'd come from bent into a black, hateful smirk.

More than the promise of pain they held, more than the mocking words they spat at him, stolen from a dead man, it was the expression of  _victory_ Harry saw on those thin white lips that horrified him the most.

"How are you feeling, child? Groggy? Confused? Let me bring you up to speed. You see, after an admittedly rushed test, you had fallen away from us for quite some time; into a  _truly_ fascinatingand… shall we say,  _unique_  coma."

The lips stretched across the silhouetted man's face further in mocking, lending credence to the unfathomably awful thought that had just appeared in Harry's mind.

"And, might I say, for someone who was all but brain-dead, you were quite the chatter box. It got annoying after a while, of course, so I took your mouth, but the things you were saying before I did… Oh, how I do wonder, just  _what_ were you dreaming of,  _Harry Potter_?"

Had he not a clear view of his chest, Harry would have sworn that an icicle had just been driven through it.

'Oh, no. Please,  _please, please!_ Please, oh fuck, oh  _God_  no!' Harry thought fervently.

"Oh my!" the shadowy figure called out delightedly, still not leaving the doorway from which the light was flooding in. "That is  _quite_  the exquisite expression you're wearing there, Harry Potter. Hehe," the red eyed figure chuckled before gasping mockingly, "don't tell me. You actually  _believed_ that you'd escaped me?! Hahahaha! Oh, fuck, hehehahaha! That's just fucking rich, Potter!" Tom, for truly, who else could it be, crowed from the doorway, hunched over from the forcefulness of his mirth as the restrained boy's gaunt expression of horror grew.

Harry felt tears prick and then spill from his eyes but spared little attention to his shame as the black, painful dread that had filled his body began threatening to overtake him completely.

As he watched the slight tremors run through Harry's body, Lord Voldemort smiled and quickly walked to his side. Harry, strapped down as he was, stared up frightfully at the looming evil above him dumbly, too shocked at finding himself back on the freezing cold laboratory table he'd been strapped to so many times before to do much else. When Voldemort leaned in towards him, flashing Harry a disarming, almost  _tender_ smile that made the boy's skin crawl, Harry found himself wishing for nothing more than his mouth back,  _anything_ , justto be able to vocalize his terror. These thoughts and a dozen others all fled Harry's mind when Tom suddenly pressed one of his pale hands down onto Harry's shoulder, surprising him with how warm the touch was. Even odder, though, was when the serpentine murderer started pleading, in a scared, high pitched voice, "Harry! Darling, wake up now. Wake up! Harry? Wake up!"

Harry's eyes flew open as the demands grew louder and more insistent. Blinking blearily, he clumsily reached in the general direction of the nightstand for his glasses while mumbling incomprehensibly. Failing to find anything after a few seconds of searching, Harry remembered that he hadn't needed glasses for almost a year now and abandoned the hunt. Feeling slightly more awake after the brief search, Harry looked to his side and saw Hermione, nude save for her jewelry which couldn't be taken off, biting her lip and looking at him in concern. He started to shoot her a puzzled look before seeming to suddenly realize something.

"Oh, no… Again?" he asked ashamedly, falling back into bed and covering his eyes with his forearm.

"It looked horrible, Harry. The worst one yet."

Harry moved his arm and gave his wife an apologetic look.

"'M sorry, babe."

She still seemed somewhat shaken, and he could only imagine how scary it must be for her to wake up next to him thrashing about in the grip of a night-terror. The war, and their capture especially, had left deep, jagged scars that ran up and down both of their psyches, but only he had such horrific, inescapable problems at night. She had nightmares every once in a while, but nothing like him.

Feeling his ears burn in shame at having woken Hermione, Harry pulled his wife down next to him and buried his face in the crook of her neck. She seemed helped by the contact as much as him, feeling the tension slip out of her as she returned Harry's affections and snuggled back into him. They were both physical beings, and while Harry couldn't actively recall what he'd been dreaming about, the strong grip of Hermione's arms around him still helped ease the background anxiety that always bubbled up after an episode.

"Harry?" Hermione softly asked.

"Yes baby?" he mumbled back.

"I think we should talk to somebody" she whispered.

Harry didn't bother pointing out how difficult that would be, given their alternate origins. If Hermione was suggesting it then she'd already thought it through and judged the benefits greater than the risks.

"Both of us?" he asked instead.

"Yeah," she answered.

Even just the idea by itself was enough to make him uncomfortable, but between knowing that he needed the help himself and wanting Hermione to find whatever closure she could, Harry just said, "Okay honey. We will."

The next time Harry awoke it was, thankfully, on much better terms. Feeling something rubbing his chest, the young traveler peeled his eyes open and saw a very naked Hermione leaning over him.

"Harry. Harry, darling, it's time to get up. Breakfast starts in half an hour and I want to be early. I completely forgot about our schedules and if Fate gave me crap classes I'm gonna be upset."

Hermione, despite her nudity, really  _did_ look worried, so Harry shook the cobwebs from his head and sat up, letting out a mighty yawn in the process. Once Harry'd stretched his arms and wings out, rubbed the crusties from the corners of his eyes away, and stood up, he asked, "What classes were you hoping for sweetheart? I'm sure that as long as you say whatever you want now, Fate'll still have enough time to fix your time-table up however you'd like. Were you hoping to keep the same classes as you had last time? I'm just asking because there's no way the Arithmancy or Ancient Runes courses are gonna be challenging enough for you. Care either. Heck, after all the studying we did in that bloody tent, I'm not sure that any of our classes are gonna be too useful. What do you think?"

Hermione took Harry's hand and led him towards their bathroom where she turned the shower on and waited, giving the heating charms a moment to warm up while she thought. Hearing a draining sound behind her, Hermione turned around and rolled her eyes upon finding Harry taking a leak; goofy expression firmly in place. Stripping off the only article of clothing that she had on, a pair of blue and white striped socks that she hadn't bothered to shed from the night before, Hermione then stepped into the shower and let out a sigh at the pleasure the hot water on her skin brought her. After enjoying the water's warmth for a few seconds, the young wife felt her husband step in behind her and responded to his earlier question.

"Oh, I don't know, I'm sure that the courses will still be plenty useful. I agree that a lot of what we're gonna be taught this year will probably be review for us, but there's bound to be plenty of new material to keep us busy too. We never did attend past fifth year, and despite what you may think, there's no way what we learned on the run can be compared to a proper Hogwarts education… Tsk, you may be right though, perhaps I shouldn't sign up for the same classes again," Hermione said, rinsing the red colored shampoo out of her hair as she thought. She then switched places with Harry, letting him take a turn under the spray to wash his hair as well. As she absently worked the standard Gryffindor conditioner into her hair, ignoring the roaring lion depicted on its front as she did, Hermione said, "Actually… I think I  _will_  sign up for Arithmancy and Ancient Runes again. I'm sure that if the normal classes prove to be too boring, there will be _some_  kind of advanced course the teachers can put together for me. What about you? What classes are you thinking of taking?"

Harry "Hmm'd" a little bit as he mulled it over. He knew that he didn't want to take either Arithmancy or Runes, that much was for sure, but he had bigger concerns floating around in his head that wouldn't let him give the decision the attention it deserved.

"I'm not too sure, babe. It's probably because we haven't been in school for so long, but now that I'm thinking about it, should I even be here?"

Hermione, seeing where her partner was going, scowled and cut him off.

"If you're leaving so am I. And I don't  _want_ to leave, Harry. Voldemort is our responsibility now, but that doesn't mean that we need to let him rule over our lives again. Agreed?" Hermione asked, moving on to Harry's wings with the soapy red washcloth now that she was all suds'd up.

As Harry swapped places with Hermione again, letting her rinse off while she scrubbed his wings, he responded. "It's not that I don't agree sweetheart, I just don't see how we're gonna be able to deal with everything at once. When we found out you were pregnant I'd planned on spending the next nine months on vacation with you. To suddenly have school and Voldemort to deal with on top of that, well, I guess I'm just a little frazzled, you know? And between the three, school seems like the least important. Not that I'm saying it  _isn't_  important, but, you know…" Harry sighed, his optimism from yesterday flagging now that he was really thinking about all that he had to do.

She and her husband were both clean by now, but instead of turning the water off, Hermione started kneading Harry's shoulders, trying to physically work some of the tension out of him. She understood where he was coming from, but even  _with_  them taking off and focusing entirely on the man's destruction, Voldemort's defeat hadn't exactly been a walk in the park last time. As she felt Harry begin to relax, Hermione was struck with an idea.

"You know, Harry, I don't really think that us taking off and going after Riddle is the way to go about this. And I'm not just saying that because I  _really_  don't want to relive the past, I honestly think that we wouldn't be doing ourselves any favors by running off and going all guerrilla warfare this time."

Despite the wonderful massage Hermione was giving him, Harry'd remained alert. At her suggestion that there was a better way to fight the Dark Lord, he immediately turned around and stared questioningly into her eyes; wanting to admire the way the beads of water snaked their way down her nude body but too distracted by what she'd said to pay the alluring sight much attention.

Seeing that Harry was listening, Hermione said, "I really hadn't given it too much thought earlier, being rather too busy with everything to bother, but hear me out. Last time we had to do almost all the work by ourselves. I mean, sure, the Order helped in their own way and the DA had our backs when they could, but the public at large spent most of the war either in denial or cowering in fear. The ministry was no help back home, but that may not be the case here. Even if they're still not a big help, what's really important is that,  _this time_ , you're not the Boy-Who-Lived. That changes everything, Harry!"

Not quite seeing what she was on about, Harry said, "Does it though? Before, Riddle was my responsibility because I was prophesized as the only one who could take him down, and while there's no crystal ball with my name on it here, the deal we made with Fate makes him our problem all over again. While you're right that I'm not the Boy-Who-Lived anymore, I don't really see how that's gonna help us in regards to offing the bastard."

Hermione shook her head at Harry, and said, "No, that's not what I meant. I'm not saying that you not being the 'Chosen One' means we don't have to fight, I'm saying that because we're just two random Hogwarts sixth years that a lot of options that  _weren't_  open to us before,  _are_ this time. Instead of the two of us having to go off on our own, behind the Order and Ministry's backs, _this_ time, we can just join them!"

Harry, seeing what she meant, jumped in, excited at the thought.

"Let me make sure I got this. You're saying that, instead of fighting Tom by ourselves, we should do it as members of the Order, maybe even as Aurors?"

Seeing Hermione's eyes sparkle as she smiled and nodded in delight, Harry said, "That's brilliant, Hermione! And you're right about the Boy-Who-Lived stuff too! Dumbledore probably won't be thrilled at the idea of underage wizards fighting against Voldemort, but with no special, specific reason for him to keep me out of the fight, I'm sure I'll be able to wear him down and let me join the Order! This is great, Hermione!"

Harry leaned forward and wrapped his sculpted arms around his petite wife lovingly, wishing that there was more time before breakfast so he could  _properly_ show her his affections.

Hermione's own slim arms snaked around Harry's waist, pulling him more flush against her as she enjoyed his embrace. She was well aware of how intelligent she was, but hearing it, and the loving awe in her husband's voice, made her feel like a little girl who'd just gotten an O all over again. She felt Harry press a kiss to the crown of her head and smiled, perfectly content with the world at that moment.

Approximately fifteen minutes later found the two teens walking out of their room, dressed for the day and hand in hand. They took a quick look around the common room, which was only scarcely populated, and headed off to the Great Hall for breakfast.

The walk there quickly became uncomfortable for the two, however, when student after student shot them looks ranging from confusion and fear to disgust and outright malice. While it had nothing on some of their previous experiences, the sheer bulk of the looks directed at the two were beginning to take their toll, sapping some of the good cheer that before had been so prevalent in them out of the two. Still, Harry did his best to keep his mate entertained and distracted as he led her down for breakfast, having long since resolved to say fuck the world and instead focus only on those he cared about. A cutting remark from a loved one may hurt him more than most, but on the flip side Harry could honestly care less about what strangers thought of him. Although Hermione largely felt the same way, she still appreciated Harry's efforts to distract her.

Finally arriving at the oaken double doors, which were already propped open for the breakfast rush, Harry led Hermione over to the Gryffindor table. Finding a spot across form an awake looking Jasper and his two not-so-awake looking friends, Harry plopped down and offered the trio a, "Good morning," to which they responded in kind.

After he and Hermione got situated at the table, Harry asked, "Want anythin' in particular, Love?"

At Hermione's response of, "Anything but eggs," Harry nodded and started piling their plates full of pancakes. Grabbing the syrup, Harry remembered his earlier words in regards to their schedules mid-pour and said, "So what classes do you guys have? I'm in Spell Crafting and Muggle Studies myself." Harry was ninety nine percent sure that Fate would back him up here, but on the off chance that he was wrong Harry tacked on, "At least, I hope so."

"That's it?" Jasper asked, taken aback at Harry's feather light class load.

"He means in addition to the core classes, of course," Hermione said.

Harry looked confused for a second, until he remembered that sixth years and up could choose to opt out of any of their core classes if they wanted. Never having made it to the grade himself, Harry had forgotten.

"Of course," Harry confirmed, feeling slightly abashed at his slip.

"Ah, that makes more sense," Jasper said before adding, "I'm taking all of the core classes too, along with Ancient Runes, Arithmancy, Care of Magical Creatures, and Spell Crafting. I'm muggle-born so I decided to give Mrs. Potter's class a pass, and as for Divination… well, I respect Professor Sighter, but I really don't see why there is an  _entire class_  based around a subject that you either  _can_ or  _can't_ use, regardless of the effort you do or don't put into it."

Harry and Hermione both smoothly tucked away the knowledge that Trelawney wasn't the Divination Professor here, figuring that without her telling of the prophecy that she must never have been hired in the first place. Harry spared the thought no more mind, but Hermione took a moment to feel vindictive satisfaction at the knowledge that the woman had never had the chance to make a mockery of education  _here_  as she had back in the Old World.

Surprised at her mental address of her past home, Hermione barely paid attention when Daisy and Clementine said that they were both in Muggle Studies and Care of Magical Creatures.

Shaking off the odd feeling of  _rightness_ addressing her previous home as the Old World made her feel, Hermione joined back into the conversation.

"I've got Runes, Arithmancy, and Spell Crafting. Or at least, I really hope I do. Those are the electives I signed up for anyway." Hermione paused to cut a triangle out of her pancakes and eat it, absently enjoying the sticky goodness of the flapjacks, when she spotted their Head of House heading their way.

The ever stern-faced Scottish Professor of Transfiguration slowed from her brisk pace as she approached the group before coming to a final halt just behind Daisy and Clementine's shoulders. She spared the two newcomers welcoming nods before holding one of her hands, which of course were professionally steady, out; the five timetables held between her fingers quickly being retrieved by her red-headed lion. With another quick nod Professor McGonagall headed to a different group of Gryffindors, leaving Daisy to further distribute the group's schedules, which both Harry and Hermione were thankful to note matched up with their recent declarations.

"Looks like we're starting off light," Hermione said, holding her schedule out to Harry. He noticed that they actually had the same classes on Mondays. She was right though, with only two hours of Transfiguration followed by two hours of Charms in the morning, and then two hours of Spell Crafting after lunch, they didn't have a long day ahead at all.

As Harry and Hermione were being led to their first class, Transfiguration, by Daisy, Jasper, and Clementine, their path was suddenly blocked by a group of mulish looking students. Unsurprisingly, leading this band of malcontent was none other than 'The Dragon' himself, Draco Malfoy.

'At least,' Harry thought, 'that's what he insisted everybody call him back yonder. Although, Draco seems the type to be an asshole in every dimension...'

"Oh, shit!" Draco yelled dramatically, suddenly drawing his pale wand and looking at Harry as if seeing him for the first time, "What kind of foul, disgusting monster is thi- oh wai-wait a minute! Wait just one minute! Phiew, false alarm! It's just our two newest students," He said with a faux-sheepish smile. "Sorry, for a second there I thought the bloody gates of hell had opened up in front of me or something!" Draco exclaimed, earning nasty snickers from the ten or so students he'd brought with him.

'Yep, multiverse douchebag status achieved,' Harry thought.

"You should just ignore him," an angry looking Jasper said. "He hasn't a single thing to say that anybody of value needs to hear. Best to save yourself the trouble and pretend he doesn't even exist." Jasper finished his coolly delivered remark by lifting his nose into the air. He then made to walk right through the group, seeming to have decided they really  _weren't_ worth being late over.

As Draco, with an outraged expression blooming across his face with all the force of spring, made to put his undeniable talent with offensive magic to use, crisply snapping his hand out and settling on which humiliating hex to use, he felt a sudden, sharp pain in his wrist. Both groups, the trio and Draco's friends, were surprised to see Harry's long black tail wrapped around the blonde's wrist, forcing his wand, which Harry was silently impressed to see had not been dropped, to point at the hard grey ceiling of Hogwarts. Quickly stepping in closer, Harry invaded Draco's personal space with a false apologetic smile on his face.

"Sorry about that mate!" Harry said as he manually unwrapped his tail with his claws, "Stupid thing acts has a mind of its own sometimes! It's a very poorly behaved appendage, though I'm told that kind of problem is normal for guys at our age, am I right? Still though," Harry continued, dropping his voice low, though everybody could still hear him, "I agree with the poor thing; you _should_  be careful waiving pointy stuff like that around."

Harry, hand still wrapped around Draco's wrist, which was very close to his face, then extended one of his horribly menacing black claws, as if to point at the boy.

The razor sharp tip hovered less than an inch away from the young Malfoy's right platinum blue eye.

"After all," Harry said cheerfully, his eyes seeming to glow with more ferocity than before, "you could poke somebody's eye out."

Harry had never once let the small smile drop from his face, but he did so now, in a very abrupt manner. Deciding to make sure the blonde had gotten his message, Harry kept this finger extended for another five whole seconds, staring at Draco the whole time. When the young dragon made no move but to frown, hiding his fear save for a few shakes, Harry made sure to make a mental note that this Draco, here in a world where the Dark Lord had never been banished, was a very different from the whiny brat he'd been in the Old World.

Quickly, Harry stepped back and withdrew his matte black hand, only making Draco flinch by the smallest increments. As Harry, with Hermione right behind him with the stunned trio behind her, turned and made his way through the group, all of who were sure to step out of the Gryffs' way, he allowed the tension to slip out of him. A school yard confrontation had nothing on a full blown fight for your life, but still, aggravation was aggravation, and he really didn't need it.

"Best just to forget about him love," Hermione whispered into his ear from her spot at his side a few minutes later. Harry turned his head and, wrapping his arm around his wife's slim waist, smiled a light smile at Hermione and asked, "Forget who?"

Hermione shook her sparkly head in amused exasperation and pulled Harry to the left, into the classroom he'd almost walked past in his attempt to act cool. As a sulking Harry was led by his giggling wife to the front of the classroom where they took their seats, Daisy, Clementine, and Jasper followed behind, each caught up in their own internal thoughts. The trio sat behind the two newcomers; all three wearing different expressions as they waited for the rest of the class to show up.

Daisy let her gaze rest on the odd couple seated just in front of her, trying to ignore the dull jealousy she couldn't help but feel at their affectionate partnership in comparison to her own single status. Her mind wandered back to the confrontation with Draco and how in control the handsome dark haired Harry had seemed, despite his being new around and the larger number of antagonists.

'What speed!' she thought, remembering how Harry, who looked  _so much_ like her father, oddly enough, had shut Draco Malfoy down before she could even blink. Little as she liked the git, Draco _had_ always been competent with his wandwork, not that it seemed to have helped him any today. Still though, despite his confidence and, she could admit it if only privately, her slight interest in him, Daisy Potter was positive that Harry Evans was a dangerous person. Daisy had never been in a life and death situation before, but even still, she could easily see that Harry's threat had been serious. The young Potter knew that she should be wary of the menacing looking newcomer, but his pleasant attitude and personable way of being made her feel confused about him instead. All that, plus some strange X factor she felt when around him, made her curiosity on the subject of Harry Evans all the greater. Exactly why a guy she didn't really know, kitted out with evil looking arms, a devilish tail, and eyes like her mum's, made her feel safe, she just didn't understand.

Clementine, more thoughtful and introspective than her friends anyway, was especially deep in thought as she sat in the warm classroom, ignoring the many examples of partial-transfigurations that littered the shelves running along the walls. While Harry's episode with the ever-irritating Draco Malfoy had been interesting, and scored him points in her book for defending her friend, Clementine found that Hermione's actions, or rather the lack thereof, had been even more intriguing. Clementine, ever the observer, had easily picked up on Hermione's slight shifting of her arm; a tell that she'd had her wand at the ready just within her pocket. The way she hadn't even bothered to look at Harry as he'd threatened Draco, 'And  _what_ a threat it had been!', and instead scanned the pack of followers Draco'd brought along... It had reminded her of her parents. The way her father knew exactly what her dad was going to do, and covered him seamlessly as he went. Everybody now knew that Harry Evans meant business, but very few would realize that both of the transfers had fought before, and fought  _together_ enough that they didn't need to talk to know how best to work alongside each other. Hearing it was one thing, but the two newcomers' actions today was proof positive. The Evans were killers.

Thus, the young Miss Black resolved to keep a closer eye on the two. They'd proven to only be decent folk in their time here so far, but now that they'd shown their claws, literally, she wasn't going to chance them hurting her precious people. If they tried, they might just find that she had a pair of claws herself.

A seat over, Jasper sat in silence with a ponderous look on his face as he allowed his eyes to wander his favorite teacher's classroom, admiring the interesting works McGonagall had on her walls. His eyes fell upon what the students had dubbed 'House Pride', a lion that would be completely normal save for the shield, bearing the Gryffindor sigil, which took the place of its face, framed by its fiery mane. Spotting the great beast's tail, which bore a slight resemblance to Harry's, though it was much too short and not nearly uniform enough in its diameter, Jasper realized what had been bugging him so much about the encounter earlier.

Harry hadn't drawn his wand.

The use of physical force wasn't as uncommon in magical society as some liked to claim, but certainly almost nobody who had a wand reacted in any other way in an emergency than to draw it. If it had been Daisy or Clem behind him he would have been hexed in the back by that spoiled ponce. Of course, Draco would've gotten a nice smattering of nasty spells shot his way in return by his friends, and himself too, but still. Not to mention how he felt having Harry even watching his back at all. Jasper would trust his life with either of the girls, but to have somebody else sticking up for him... it was kind of nice.

As the last few Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs found their seats, including a harried looking Neville Longbottom, Professor McGonagall finally entered the room, closing the oaken door behind her with an absent flick of her wand.

"Welcome, class, to Year Six Transfiguration," Professor McGonagall called out as she strode towards her old wooden desk at the front of the class.

"Some of you may be thinking that the work load will be lesser this year when compared to last due to the lack of OWLs or NEWTs." McGonagall pressed her thin lips together and gave the class at large a disapproving frown as she assured them, "It will not."

A chorus of groans met this statement, with a particularly loud one coming from a red-headed boy seated at the back of the classroom. Harry and Hermione both tensed at the sound, but thankfully the Transfiguration Professor retook control of the class before there was time enough for anything to happen.

"That's enough now!" McGonagall barked out sternly, her cheeks coloring in anger.

The class quickly fell silent, taken aback by the harsh tone the Head of House had used. Strict though she may be, to hear actual anger in McGonagall's voice was not normal.

"I understand that the end of year exams for your group are not as important as your OWLs were or your NEWTs will be, but there is an even  _more important_ reason why you all must not shy away from improvement, regardless of the work involved, especially this year."

McGonagall's dark eyes swept across the room, taking in the now solemn faces of the students.

"Neither You-Know-Who nor his followers are known for their discrimination due to age when choosing their victims, but the fact remains... Each and every one of you are beginning to grow up, and as you enter the adult world, so too do the adults begin to turn their eyes upon you." Minerva's eyes softened by the slimmest of margins as she continued sincerely. "I do  _not_  wish to frighten you, my dear students, but do beware. For the day may come where the only thing standing between  _you_ and the white mask of a Death Eater is your wand. Gods be good it never happens, but should it anyway, I pray you'll find yourself prepared. While not combat magic in its strictest sense of self, transfiguration could well save your life on that day. I'll not have the alternative on me, and so all of you will be working  _hard_  this year."

The class had fallen still in its silence at an early point in the dark haired instructor's speech. While some had undeniably been more affected than others by the lengthy civil war, after sixteen years of life, none in the classroom had escaped entirely unscathed.

Harry, who, like his wife beside him, had fallen into silent introspection, was nevertheless still attentive enough to notice and decipher the quick frown of self-disgust that flashed across McGonagall's wrinkled face. Harry could sympathize with the elderly professor; he himself having had to spell out the grimness of a situation to refocus a group's attention multiple times in the past. He knew what it felt like to then deal with the subsequent feelings of self-loathing that only bringing up your friends' harshest memories, and watching as their faces contorted in pain and regret, could invoke. He did not envy his professor in that moment.

Luckily, for everybody really, Professor McGonagall didn't let the morose silence stretch for too long. Instead, she shattered the classroom's somber atmosphere with a sharp CLAP of her hands before silently summoning a thin stack of papers from within her desk.

"Now, before we begin our first lesson, I'd like for you to come up, one at a time, take a syllabus," here the Scott tapped her right pointer finger on the stack of papers twice, "transfigure it into an animal and back, and then return to your seat. Is that understood?"

Judging the ratio of nods and affirmative looks to vacant expressions to be acceptable, Professor McGonagall nodded for the forward and leftmost student, Susan Bones, to start them off.

The young red-head went up and transfigured her piece of parchment into a small sparrow, whose colors, McGonagall verbally noted, were just a touch washed out. After the blushing girl had promised to improve and returned to her seat, and two more Puff's had taken their turns (producing a flat-ish white rat and an unimpressive one-eared bunny), it was Hermione's turn.

The class, which had started to regain its typical level of chatter, quickly fell silent as the bejeweled transfer student calmly walked to McGonagall's desk and plucked up a syllabus before lazily tossing the sheet of parchment in front of her. Hermione watched it float down for a half-second before she, with a false-bored expression on her face, trained her sleek wooden wand on the softly falling object.

Harry groaned as Hermione instantly and silently transfigured the miniscule parchment into an absolutely  _gorgeous_ doe that stood at eye level with her.

'Show off,' Harry couldn't help but think with a grin, as he watched Hermione pretend to ignore the "Ooh!"-ing and "Aah!"-ing she'd drawn from the class with her spotted masterpiece. After giving the beautiful creature a few loving pats on the jaw and one scratch behind its long ears, Hermione finally undid her spell, once again silently of course, before picking her paper back up and returning to her desk. McGonagall was too busy  _gaping_ at her wonderful talent to comment.

Harry watched his sparkling jewel sit down and give him a smirk from the corner of her mouth, which he was quickly filled with an almost  _burning_ desire to kiss, as she neatly folded her hands atop her desk, the  _picture_ of innocence. The mischievous glint in her eyes told a different story, of course...

Harry leaned in and wrapped one of his bladed hands gently around Hermione's waist as he whispered, "Tryinna impress somebody,  _teacher's pet_?", the teasing quality of his voice and the curve of his smile changed his mocking question into an endearing jest easily. Hermione's faux-offended, "You know I have to do things like that silently now," drew his eyes to the diamond Stones of Intent decorating her face, but he still gave her a quick wink as he got up for his turn and whispered, "And I take it those pretty rocks  _forced_  ya to show this lot up as well, huh? Your doe was so good, had he been out, I'm sure poor Prongs woulda gotten whiplash checkin' her out." Keeping his voice down, Harry said, "Ya  _know_ I've gotta one-up ya now, of course."

Harry felt Hermione's raised eyebrow follow him as he swaggered up to the front of the class and couldn't help but smile. He then drew a startled giggle from his lover when he abruptly and dramatically turned around and snapped his fingers, conjuring a stereotypical black, cylindrical wand with white tips, a magician's hat, and a small, velvety red blanket all at once. Ignoring the giggles coming from the class, and the disapproving look McGonagall was shooting him, Harry then proceeded to gently set one of the pieces of parchment on the cool stone floor before draping the red blanket over it. Then, with exaggerated flourish, Harry yanked the too-small cloth away to reveal a  _gigantic_  lion. The great beast had thick fur the same color as Harry's arms, adding to its menace and doing an excellent job of accentuating the pearly white, finger-length teeth populating its mouth. The black cat had let loose a bellowing roar that could be physically  _felt_ the moment it was revealed, and the class's reactions had been immediate as well.

Nearly everyone in the room, including even an ashen faced McGonagall, let either a startled gasp or terrified shriek out at the sight of the lumbering king of the jungle, although Hermione's delighted laughter and rapid clapping did much to ruin the feeling of horror.

Harry took a moment to enjoy the attention, and spare an exasperated smile at Hermione, before announcing in a stage voice, "And now! For my next trick!"

His showboating managed to draw a few surprised laughs from the class, but even those once again became screams when Harry unceremoniously plunged his entire arm down the massive cat's throat, keeping one hand on its monstrous muzzle in an exaggerated parody of a man trying not to fall in somewhere. He pretended to root around in the beast's belly for a few seconds before slowly dragging his arm back out. As he did, the matte-black goliath slowly turned inside out, starting with its tail. That was sucked back into its giant body, and after that its hind legs and rear also got inverted. This completely gore-free process continued up the lion's body until only Harry's hand remained in the animal's mouth. He finished pulling his demonic claw out of the beach ball sized head that sat on the floor until it too was turned inside out until it transformed back into the bottom of the syllabus it'd originally been. Harry then yelled out, "Dun Duhhh!" and vanished his get-up. When the room burst into applause, with even McGonagall giving a few shaky claps, Harry bowed to his right and then left before returning to his seat.

"And you had to gall to call  _me_ a teacher's pet?" Hermione snarked as soon as he sat down, earning her a quick kiss from a grinning Harry. He knew she had a point, but still. McGonagall was his favorite teacher and he wasn't about to  _not_ be her best student. 'Besides,' he thought, "You liked it too."

Hermione only rolled her eyes at his petulant tone before slipping her hand into his and watching the rest of the class try to show that they hadn't forgotten  _everything_ McGonagall'd been teaching them over the summer. Daisy managed a good looking barn owl, Jasper a perfectly formed and colored pit bull, and Clementine a sandy colored rattlesnake. Harry felt himself smiling at the confirmation he felt blossom in his heart when the only thing he understood from the little she-Sirius' snake was "Hiss-hiss". That smile quickly dropped off his face, however, to be replaced by a muted expression of past pain, as the last student made his way up to the front of the class.

Harry felt Hermione's hand grasp his tighter as the gangly red head in front of them managed a passable mouse transfiguration before returning to his seat.

'So, this is what he would've looked like,' Harry thought as his heart gave a painful  _lurch_ in his chest.

As Harry sat there, thinking morosely, he realized, not for the first time, that while he'd been a part of  _something_ since even before his birth, the  _war_ hadn't really started for him until the summer before sixth year.

When all nine Weasleys had been  _burned_ to  _death_ in their home, just for knowing him.

It'd been a  _harsh_ and  _daring_ blow from Voldemort that nobody'd expected, and it had come within a hair's reach of  _destroying_ him, but in the end it had hardened him instead. The light of innocence, flickering and feeble in his heart as it'd already been by that point, had been viciously snuffed out with a savage  _finality_  that night, and in its place, an angry, black seed of  _cruelty_ had taken root. If not for Hermione, who'd been his rock as he'd been hers that summer they spent holed up in Grimmauld Place grieving, Harry had little doubt he'd have ended up every bit the monster he now looked.

While both he and Hermione paid enough attention to McGonagall's following lecture to know what was said, both of their minds were undeniably elsewhere for the rest of the period. Still, Hermione was never one to lament over the past for too long, and since even Harry had gotten better about sulking, they didn't linger too long on their dark thoughts. At the least, they  _were_ paying plenty enough attention to hear McGonagall call for them to stay after when the rest of the class got dismissed.

"Want us to wait?" a studious looking Clementine asked from her position in the doorway with Jasper and Daisy both hanging around behind her.

"Nah, thanks though. M'pretty sure I know where the Charms classroom is at," Harry responded with a grin. Hermione gave the three a thankful smile and a cheerful wave as they called out their various, "See ya"-s and left.

The hardy oaken door swung shut behind the three as they headed off to class, leaving a calm looking Harry and a curious Hermione behind with the Transfiguration Professor, who'd made her way back in front of her desk to lean against.

"I had originally planned to hold the two of you behind today to offer up extra help, but instead I find myself offering extra  _work_." Despite her stern exterior, both Harry and Hermione were able to see the hopeful glint in the Scott's eyes as she looked at the two. "In most cases, students spend their sixth year in my class improving the quality of their work as well as the size of their transfigurations. It is only in seventh year that I even  _begin_  instructing on how weave commands and instructions into one's spell. To be blunt, the two of you are beyond this class. However, that hardly means the same as 'you are beyond  _me'_. If you are willing to  _learn_  more, then I am willing to  _teach_  more, as has always been my policy. Understand that you are in no way obligated to accept, as it would be improper of me to force more difficult wor-"

But the elderly woman was saved from having to try and convince the two to take on a tougher work load when Hermione reached forward and took one of McGonagall's hands into her own and, with a gentle smile spread across her face, said, "I'm so glad you offered, Professor. It saves us the trouble of asking."

McGonagall's face, which had been caught in an expression of surprise at the sudden contact, morphed into a warm, satisfied smile at Hermione's declaration.

"We weren't sure you'd have the time, you see," Harry started, drawing McGonagall's warm eyes to him. "We already knew that some of the sixth year material wouldn't be much use to us, but that doesn't mean we've come to just rest on our laurels. I want you to know that we'll take on as much as you can give us."

Minerva looked at the twin looks of steely determination the two Evans wore and felt  _something_ in her chest flutter.

' _This_  is why I became a teacher,' the Scott thought.

"Very well then," she said. "I've half an hour till my fourth years should start arriving. I'll begin working on something for the two of you right away." McGonagall gave them a proud nod and made her way back behind her desk. "Well," she said, wrangling her smile back under control, "you'd best be off, both of you. Filius is a very forgiving man but that's no reason to take advantage of him and be late. Off you go!" she tried to say sternly, although warmth seeped into her voice despite herself.

Smiling back at the woman, both Harry and Hermione headed for the door when suddenly McGonagall remembered something and called out, "Mrs. Evans?"

Hermione looked back in askance as Harry held the door open.

"What did you mean, when you said you'd already planned to ask for additional instruction? Were you so sure that you would be advanced beyond our normal curriculum?"

Harry and Hermione stiffened by the slimmest margins before sharing a look with one another. McGonagall silently marveled at just  _how much_  the two seemed to say without  _saying_ anything at all.

Unexpectedly, the elderly transfiguration mistress felt her breath hitch in her chest when the two turned back to face her. Stood in the dim doorway, the young man's eyes seemed to've been lit ablaze, burning with an alien fire the color of emeralds even as the rest of his features remained placid. His young bride looked just as intense, with her calm features and small smile not being enough to distract McGonagall's gaze away from the silently writhing, flat, black mass that lay on her upper chest and neck like paint.

"Well," Hermione started, suddenly seeming  _anything_  but a child to the Transfiguration Professor, "remember those adults you warned us about? The ones who'd start turning their eyes to us now?"

Minerva withheld a shudder at her new pupil's voice, which was suddenly as cold as the frozen tundra's that capped their planet, and nodded.

"You see, we've been having something of a… a staring contest, if you will, for quite a few years now." Hermione then took a small step towards McGonagall who, despite feeling uncomfortable with the strange way the two were acting, felt not a jot threatened by the innocent action. "If the time should come where we ask to stand shoulder to shoulder with you, in this world of adults," Hermione said, "please remember that."

And then, just like that, the two charming teens were back, all smiles and grins as they waved goodbye to McGonagall before strolling out of the classroom, easy as you like.

Minerva's wide eyed stare followed them out.

**AN: Hey guys, this is the part where I go on a long winded spiel about how sorry I am for the long delay and stuff, but I'm not really feeling it. I was without a way to post any chapters I completed online for the last few months, so I didn't bother writing.**

**Well bitches, guess what's changed?**

**Yeah, that's right.**

**Happy days are here again.**

**Expect updates soon.**

**Peace out!**


	4. Chapter Four

**Chapter Four**

Harry and Hermione, despite being held behind, still managed to beat the bell to their Charms class, figuratively, of course.

Hogwarts wasn't exactly the type of school to have bells.

Still, despite making good time thanks to a secret passage, it was still slim pickings for good seats, since they were sharing the room with the sixth year Ravenclaws. The two eventually ended up sitting further back than they (Hermione) had wanted, but Professor Flitwick's entrance chased all thoughts of bullying somebody out of their seat away.

"Good morning class!" the short professor began, a stark contrast already to McGonagall's ominous and dreary introduction. "It is so very good to see all've your smiling faces and bright eyes again! Oh, and even better to have  _new_ faces looking back at me. Transfer students! My, it's like getting the joy of teaching first years without half as many explosions!"

Harry and Hermione both smiled, abashed, as the excitable professor continued to sing their virtues to the class, on and on. Thankfully for them, Flitwick seemed to have quickly realized that perhaps he was getting a touch carried away and stopped.

Before launching into a just-as-peppy lecture about the sort of material they'd be covering that year. "Banishing, shrinking, stunning, hiding, finding, digging, wigging, writing, gliding, and fighting! Plus a few dozen others if we can, and even how to manipulate an interior space if we're lucky! Oh boy!" Professor Flitwick exclaimed with a joyous light dancing in his eyes.

It was his exuberant an unrepentant love of learning that made the short man Hermione's favorite teacher. Everybody learned in Flitwick's classroom, whether they wanted to or not.

Harry could practically  _feel_  his young bride bouncing in anticipation as Flitwick skipped right over any kind of review and got right into an, admittedly, engaging lecture-slash-demonstration of the Traction Control spell.

"Developed less than a decade ago by one of our very own alumnus, this nifty charm is applied to both shoes and allows the caster a great amount of control over the friction levels that the bottoms of their shoes experience. While the application phase of the charm is simple enough, it is due to the mental discipline needed to work this spell properly that you all are just now learning it. It is also," Flitwick continued with a mischievous grin, "the reason why so rarely do you hear of an elder student being late for class."

Groans and protests of unfairness meshed together to form that perfect 'disgruntled group of minors' sound. It made the small professor's grin grow to near shit-eating levels, proof positive that he was enjoying their reactions. Still, he supposed he  _did_ have a class to teach, and so eventually got the lot of 'em back under control and challenged their ire by saying, "Yes, yes, I often hear of the unfairness of it all when first introducing this charm, but I assure you that even now, at your age, not all of you will find this charm easy to use. Now, the drawbacks make its use limited, but it's still  _very_ helpful. You see, you must consciously control this charm for it to work. This makes holding a conversation while using the Traction Control charm difficult for all but the most experienced of multi-taskers. That is to say nothing of having to maneuver around obstacles as you go."

Flitwick proceeded to demonstrate his point by aiming his quirky looking wand down at his tiny, shining black shoes before clearly stating, "Lentus Terra!" A dull brown glow shown from the bottoms of his shoes. Then, to the delight of the class, Flitwick proceeded to walk up and down the aisles at a jogging pace, while appearing to only be slowly strolling casually all the while.

"Like I said," the Charms Professor said as he came to a stop, "control over how much friction your feet experience with the ground. It can allow you to maximize your strides like you just saw, as well as..." Here Professor Flitwick frowned in concentration before kicking off and  _skating_ around his desk in big, looping circles, drawing surprised exclamations and applause from the class with his skill, till finally, with a last twirling jump, he came to a stop atop his desk with his arms held up.

Slightly out of breath, Flitwick then said, "Five points to whoever can tell me the mechanics behind what I just did."

Before the last syllable of the word 'mechanics' had left Flitwick's mouth, Hermione had already raised her hand high in the air. Blinking after Flitwick acknowledged her with a, "Yes, Mrs. Evans, wasn't it?" Hermione answered with, "Yes sir. You pushed with your left foot, which you were assigning a good deal of friction at the time, before leading in with your right foot; that had very _little_  friction assigned to it."

"Yes, and how did I go in a circle? Did I push off with one of my feet as ice skaters do?" Flitwick asked back with interest in his eyes.

"No sir, I was watching for that. Instead, you must have applied more friction to the left sides of your feet than your right. That's what made you spin around your desk. You managed to control the spell beyond just 'left foot, right foot' sir, you were able to pick spots on the soles of your shoes to manipulate. It was very impressive, sir," Hermione finished with a smile, relishing the feeling of answering questions in a classroom once again.

Flitwick's face burst out into a delighted smile as the gemmed witch perfectly deciphered the complicated technique after a single fifteen second display. 'I'll have to keep an eye on that one!' he mused, giddy at the thought of nurturing such brilliance.

"Spot on, Mrs. Evans!  _Spot on!_ That's quite the deduction! And, as promised, five points to Gryffindor for housing such an  _astute_ mind! Very well done indeed!"

The Ravenclaw Head of House then carried on with the lesson, explaining how the charm's other drawback was the inability to cast additional spells while it was in use and promising them the chance to practice it next time, when the room was clear of tables and the appropriate cushioning charms had been cast. As he delved further into the lesson, explaining the intricacies of the charm and urging them all to take ample notes, Hermione and Harry both were filled with such a sense of nostalgia that they didn't even feel the content smiles slipping over their features.

They spent the rest of the lesson happily taking notes, listening to their excitable professor, and enjoying the  _normality_ of it all.

Charms was the last class the Gryffindors and Ravenclaws had before lunch, so once the excitable Filius Flitwick released them the whole class headed off to the Great Hall, eager to eat. Harry Potter, now Evans, looked around the Great Hall upon entering, and continued scanning the room as he took his seat. Most of the sixth year Puffs were present, sitting huddled and hunched around something or other at their table. Most of the sixth year Slytherins, however, were already sending dirty looks over his way, though none were nastier than the glare coming from Draco Malfoy.

'Still sore from earlier?' Harry thought maliciously as he sneered back. 'Good.'

Hermione, noticing where he was looking and following his gaze, narrowed her eyes in disgust at the blonde  _slime_ looking their way. Suddenly feeling irritable and not wishing to spoil her good mood any more than it already had been, Hermione reached under the table and squeezed Harry's knee through his trousers, drawing his attention.

"Pass the jam, darling, and stop glaring. It's annoying." Despite her words, Harry still noticed her spare one last venomous look towards the snakes' table herself. Daisy, however, didn't, and surprised them all by commenting.

"Harry can glare if he wants to! After the stunt Draco pulled earlier, I'm glaring too! Nothing to be ashamed of," Daisy said hotly, although she seemed to regret spouting off so brazenly the moment the words were out of her mouth.

Hermione, despite being shocked at Daisy, still felt her cheeks heating up in offense, and was quick to scowl and snap out, "I didn't say it was shameful, I said it was  _annoying_. And I wasn't talking to you, Daisy. You can do whatever you'd like, but some of us can't afford to be children for much longer, and thus need to start actinglike adults!"

Before anyone else could decide to chime in and escalate things, Harry straightened in his seat and firmly said, "That's enough, the both of you. Daisy, thank you for the support, but Hermione's right; its immature to sit and make dirty faces at people you don't like."

Hermione started nodding her head even as Daisy's drooped before Harry continued, freezing them both mid-action. "However, snapping at people isn't right either. You know she wasn't instigating, and we both know that two wrongs don't make a right.  _So_ ," Harry said in a controlled voice, "I'm sorry for glaring, honey." Harry then looked pointedly at Hermione even as he started spreading the exact amount of jam she liked onto a slice of bread.

Hermione, red cheeked with embarrassment, gave both Harry and his alternate version bashful smiles as she said, "Sorry for snapping, at the  _both_  of you. Harry especially since  _I_  was glaring too, and Daisy especially since you were just defending my husband."

Daisy, somewhat taken aback by the mature way Harry'd handled the situation, also apologized.

"Yeah, I'm sorry. Really, I shouldn't've even stuck my nose into you guy's business in the first place."

Hermione frowned and said, "We haven't really know each other for too terribly long, but I do still consider you a friend, Daisy. I don't want you to feel like saying something and then  _not_ just because I was short with you. I know it's not very responsible of me, but can we please blame this on the hormones and just forget about it?" Hermione asked with a slightly forced giggle and a pat to her belly.

Three sets of eyes bulged at the action.

"Wah, ya mean you're? Like with a!?  _Inside?!_ " Daisy tried to fumble out before erupting into a blushing mess when her eyes landed on Harry. "But, then, doesn't that mean, that you two!? That the two of you!? That is to say, you and he did  _that?_ "

All five Gryffindors were blushing now, and eye contact quickly became impossible to establish.

A scowling, red-faced Clementine reached across Jasper's lap and started swatting at Daisy's shoulder while shouting, with a furious blush, "You idiot!  _Obviously_ that's what that means! What else could the meaning of that  _possibly_ be taken to mean!?"  _Idiot!_ "

As Daisy half-heartedly tried to defend her inelegant line of questioning to her friend the five teens slowly regained their composure. After Daisy and Clementine finally cut it out, and a few seconds of silence had passed, Jasper suddenly frowned thoughtfully.

"So that's what you meant," he said. "When you mentioned how you couldn't afford to act like children for much longer…"

A somewhat tense silence stretched as Hermione and Harry failed to respond and instead shared a look. Harry then handed his wife her slice of bread, which had the strawberry jam she'd asked for earlier already spread across it, before carefully thinking of how to answer Jasper; not wanting to just come out and  _say_  that they had plans to kill Voldemort and all of his followers, but also not quite willing to flat out lie to the boy.

"Well, yes, that's partially correct. And certainly the most important reason. But… ah, how to say this?" Harry asked himself with a light sigh. "Ya remember what Professor McGonagall said earlier? And you also remember what  _we_ said, back on the ride here? Well, pretend if you will, that you've gone through what we have as far as dark witches and wizards go. Now, imagine what even the  _thought_  of sharing a countrywith disgusting scum like the Death Eaters would feel like. In a situation like that, there are really only two options available to ya." Harry took a second to establish eye contact with Daisy and then Clementine to drive home how serious he was before focusing back on Jasper.

The air seemed to thicken for the trio sat across from the new students as Harry slowly leaned in and said, with an alien power suddenly audible in his voice, "We could flee." Despite actually being quite quiet, Jasper and his two female friends still felt odd shivers shoot up and down their spines at the dark-haired teen's words, starching the little hairs on their arms and legs; forcing them to stand at attention. "Or," the blazing, emerald eyed Harry whispered as his face stretched into a mean grin while he pulled Hermione snug against his side with one smooth movement of his right arm, "You can do the…  _other_   _thing_."

Daisy and Jasper both stared at Harry with shocked expressions, but Clementine twitched.

Though something deep inside of her flooded with unease at the thought of looking away from the male Evan's hypnotic green eyes, Clementine managed to avert her gaze over to Hermione; suddenly,  _inexplicably_ , overcome with an insistent desire to see just what  _she_  thought about what Harry was saying.

With one of her soft hands pressed comfortably against her belly and the other wrapped  _firmly_ 'round her husband's thin waist, the sheer,  _zealous_  adoration that blazed in Hermione's warm brown eyes as she gazed up at Harry stayed burned into Clementine's mind through the rest of lunch and all the way up to her bed in Gryffindor Tower. It was perfectly normal for the young Miss Black to occasionally take such midday naps, but the dreams of smoldering green fire and flashing black claws that dominated her subconscious were very,  _very_ new.

Harry and Hermione, as well as Jasper, all had Spell Crafting after lunch, while Daisy and Clementine were free for the rest of the day. After the two girl had split off, Harry and Hermione let the male Granger lead the way through the castle's twisting and turning hallways. When they arrived they discovered that, like some of the students were saying the Defense Against the Dark Arts class had been, Spell Crafting too was absent of its normal instructor. Instead, overseeing the class was the perpetually down Grey Lady, who morosely pointed to the reading assignment on the board and mumbled for them to complete it before silently sinking into the stone floor.

"Poor thing," Harry heard a thin, wisp of a girl say sadly from his right. Sitting next to him was a petite, silvery blonde haired girl with big blue eyes that gave her soft features a default look of surprise, although with how expressive her eyes were it was easy to see that she was sincere in her sadness.

Harry felt his heart clench at the sight of Luna Lovegood, looking just as innocent and uniquely cute as she had on the day of her death.

From their first meeting on the Hogwarts Express, where she's plainly told him to his face that she believed in him even while he'd been looking down on her for being odd, all through his fifth year where she'd freely given him her unending loyalty, till finally at the Department of Mysteries where she'd been struck down by the completely insane Bellatrix Lestrange, Luna Lovegood had always,  _always,_ been an exceptional girl.

Equally exceptional, was the incredibly large weak spot Harry harbored for the young Lovegood girl.

"You're such a sappy bint, Loony. Didn't mummy ever teach you that ghosts don't have feelings? Before she went and blew herself up, I mean," an incredibly cruel seventh year Ravenclaw sniped from a row ahead of where they were sat. He was nicely tanned, with short, spiky black hair and bright blue eyes that held a surprising amount of malice behind them. A silver hoop through each of his ears gave the handsome older teen a 'Popular Rebel' look, and he was apparently deemed likable enough to have two buddies congratulate him on his remark, with one of them even slapping his friend a high five.

Luna Lovegood lightly bit her bottom lip and looked down, Harry Evans blinked once, and Hermione Evans shook her head knowingly.

At one point in time, Harry had thought himself to be slightly in love with the unbendingly faithful, offbeat, girl. He'd eventually managed to figure the feelings out to be more familial in nature, and had all but adopted the littler 'Claw as a sister around halfway through fifth year, but the fact still stood.

Harry Potter  _adored_ Luna Lovegood.

Hermione gave a small wince as she noticed her husband's left hand twitch fractionally under the table.

A second later, 'Popular Rebel Asshole' sprung from his seat and gave an agonizing shriek of pain as the small silver hoop dangling from his left earlobe was bloodily ripped from his flesh by an invisible force, spraying a small line of red onto 'High Five Guy's' face. As the now red hoop quietly sung a soft ringing from its owner's desk, like a coin that was nearly finished spinning, Jacob, Popular Rebel Asshole's real name according to his other, blood-free friend, reached for his pocket.

Luna gave a startled, "Eep!" at the sudden violence and flinched back when her bleeding tormentor screamed at her and started to dig out his wand.

She needn't have worried, though, for with another small twitch of Harry's hand, the seventh year Ravenclaw's legs shot straight out in front of him, leaving him to fall painfully onto his back. A sickening thud sounded out when momentum inevitably caused his head to fly back and smack against the hard stone floor. Instantly, the teen's angry snarl morphed into a painful, dazed groan.

When the downed 'Claw's friends made to draw on Luna, Harry and Hermione calmly stood up. Before the two seventh years could decide what to do, Harry smiled falsely and pleasantly said, "Easy there blokes," stretching the 'e' of easy, "For ya go 'n make some  _really_ stupid fucking decisions, may I suggest you look down? See that? On the ground there? Yeah? Good. Now, I'm no doctor," Harry said with a slight chuckle, "but it looks to me like your stupid cunt friend could use some medical attention, like, pronto, yeah?"

The class seemed taken aback by the teen's casual use of such awful vulgarity, and indeed at the entire spectacle in general, but when the two Ravenclaws failed to follow his advice Harry seemed to take it personally, frowned, and said, not so pleasantly, "What, are you fucking deaf? I thought I fucking told you stupid cunts to take your boy and scram! Hermione, baby, did I not tell these stupid cunts? Did I not?"

Hermione seemed to be enjoying Harry's dramatic act and didn't bother hiding her amused smirk as she looked down her nose at the two, now unsure, boys, and played along.

"Why, I do believe you did at that sweetheart. And what good advice it was, too. Just look! I'd bet that their poor friend down there could really use their help, and yet here these two morons remain, gaping up at us, like  _fish_. Oh, for shame," she said while shaking her head in mock disappointment, still smirking.

Of course, neither of the two meant what they said half as much as they seemed to. Harry had already cast three basic healing charms on the prone boy and Hermione didn't like hearing Harry use such bad language, but for Luna's sake, they had to make a strong impression. Hermione viewed the girl with similar familial affection as Harry, although he looked on the girl with much tenderer eyes than even she, and Hermione had previously come to love the blonde like a sister. Even if they got into trouble, which Hermione was already pretty sure they'd be able to maneuver out of if they had to, she felt that this demonstration was worth it.

Harry's resolve need not be commented on.

Between the demonic looking Brit's aggressive tone and colorful vocabulary and his bejeweled companion's sharp, condescending remarks, both of the Ravenclaw boys were feeling their faces flush with anger and embarrassment at being talked down to, especially since they had an entire class bearing witness to it all. Luckily, for the two Ravenclaws honestly, their friend really did look like he could use a stay in the school's medical wing. And so, with many dark mutterings but no retaliation, the two hefted their friend onto his feet and led him out, into the hall.

Silence reigned in the classroom once the three had departed, and nearly twenty pairs of eyes remained trained on the two newcomers as they retook their seats, though not before managing to manhandle Luna Lovegood in-between them.

The tiny blonde looked so completely lost, and in such a different way than she normally did, that it was all Harry could do not to throw his arms around the girl and draw her firmly into the embrace he so  _sorely_  ached for. Resisting that urge but unable to completely keep his hands to himself, Harry made due with flashing Luna a warm smile and settling a big clawed hand on her head. Giving her signature messy blonde hair an affectionate ruffle, which had Luna's already prominent blue eyes widening even further, Harry then said, "Sorry 'bout all that nastiness love. See, normally, I'm not the kinda bloke to go runnin' off at the mouth 'round those of a more delicate inclination; yourself for example. Horrid manners that, but unfortunately I'm something of a hothead, ya know? Passionate creature, I is," the green eyed boy proclaimed while blasting a charming smile at the slight girl. "Name's Harry by the way. Harry 'Merlin Two-Point-O' Evans."

Luna let out a startled giggle at the strange boy before quietly asking, "Is that really your name?"

Hermione's snort drew the young Ravenclaw's attention to her left. The older witch then said to the younger, "No, Harry's middle name is 'Silly Idiot'. His parents were blessed with very good foresight, you see, as well as a penchant for giving things rather fitting names."

Harry's playful pout and Hermione's teasing scorn were causing an unsure but amused upturning of Luna's lips when, quite suddenly, the face of the devilish looking boy on her right lost its smile, and instead adopted focused, furrowed eyebrows and a slight pursing of the lips that spoke of seriousness.

"No," Harry began solemnly, staring deeply into Luna's big blue eyes as he spoke. "That's not it either, actually. My name is Harry James Evans. You're gonna want to remember it, Little Lovegood, because from now on the two of us are friends. So mote it be."

Luna felt an electric jolt of shock shoot through her system at the emerald-eyed boy's unexpected declaration, but before she could respond an irritated voice butted back in.

"See, what did I say? A silly idiot. What my dear husband surely  _meant_  to say, of course, was that the  _three_ of us are friends from now on," Hermione said, dryly rolling her eyes at Harry before squeezing Luna's hand tightly.

"I'm Hermione by the way," the sparkling witch added suddenly, feeling her cheeks heat up slightly in embarrassment at how out of order she'd just sounded.

'Next time, its 'Introduce Yourself'  _before_ 'Declare Lifelong Friendship', ugh', Hermione thought, though from the sudden, slightly-confused, wobbly smile the young witch nestled between her and Harry was sporting, Hermione figured that Luna didn't much mind the odd faux pas.

The young Ravenclaw seemed a touch unsure of herself, but still possessed enough courage to introduce herself back to the two strangely friendly strangers.

"My parents named me Luna, because of my hair color. It's strange to me, though, since the moon can be so many different colors depending on the circumstances. Are the two of you quite sure that we're friends now? It's just that, well, I would feel rather awful if you were only teasing me, you see," the young Lovegood informed them in her plainly open, honest way.

"I'm sorry to report, Little Luna, that it's true. 'Fraid that means you're stuck with us from now on," Harry responded with a winning smile.

"Yes, yes," Hermione said distractedly as she leafed through 'Magical Engineering: Spells', which just so happened to be the rather thick book they were all supposed to be reading. "We're quite sure. Now, if you don't mind, I would very much like to get started," she continued, "I haven't worked on making a new spell for more than a year now and I'm quite excited to begin."

"I am afraid, Mrs. Evans, that you will have to wait just a little longer still," a calm old voice claimed from the doorway unexpectedly. "You two as well, Mr. Evans, Miss Lovegood."

Albus Dumbledore was stood just outside the doorway, poking his bearded face in, flashing the startled class a patient smile.

"I was hoping that the three of you wouldn't mind joining me in my office for a spot of tea." Dumbledore said pleasantly, "If you please?" he asked, beckoning to them with a wave of his wrinkled hand.

Luna felt her shoulders stiffen in apprehension at the Headmaster's offer/order. Never in her half a decade of attendance at Hogwarts had she been called into his office before…

The blue eyed girl gave a tiny flinch of surprise when both of her hands were easily claimed by her new friends, with Harry gently wrapping one of his deadly black claws around her right hand and Hermione interlacing her own smooth fingers with Luna's smaller ones on her left hand. The small action went unnoticed by the majority of the class, but the elderly Dumbledore had always seen more than most. He felt the white whiskers on his face ruffle as his lips stretched upwards ever so slightly at the venerable  _surge_  of warmth that went shooting up the young Lovegood's back at the friendly action; leaving the girl looking much more at ease than before and with an  _astoundingly_  beautiful smile on her lips. The sight caused the elderly wizard's eyes to twinkle more intensely, but that and his negligible smile were all the genuine emotion he allowed to shine through. There were mildly serious accusations being flung in the three's direction after all, and while he wasn't the kind of man to judge a person before they'd been proven guilty, he certainly didn't want to make light of the situation just yet either.

As the three students joined their Headmaster out in the stony hall, the class behind them could be heard busting out into hushed whispers that oozed speculation. Soon though, the dull roar resonating from the room abruptly cut off when the thick oaken door swung shut, leaving the small group outside to stand in silence.

Albus tilted his head ever so slightly to the side as he studied the youths before him from atop his half-moons, paying special attention to how they interacted with one another. The lad, Harry, seemed the most at ease. The way he rubbed the small Lovegood's fingers reassuringly seemed genuine in its absentness, and there was no tenseness in his muscles to speak of; a good indicator that the boy wasn't afraid of getting into trouble at the moment.

Well, either that, or he just didn't care.

'Hopefully his ease is indicative of innocence, and not  _experience_ ,' the white haired wizard thought.

To Albus's rightmost was the chocolate eyed young woman who'd caused that little incident in the Great Hall the day before; over a few potatoes if he was recalling correctly. He knew it was terribly impolite, but the gestureless charm to hyper-focus his hearing had already been cast before he'd even had the chance to think about it properly. The looks being exchanged between young Professor Potter and the black haired youth had peaked his interest, and he was ashamed to say that he'd always been bad about keeping his curiosity in check.

Now, despite his misgivings about  _how_ he'd come upon the knowledge, he  _was_ pleased to have done so.

'Kids these days, pregnant at sixteen,' Albus thought, even as he took note of how Hermione seemed to mirror her husband's apathy at the situation. 'Although, I suppose, had Gellert been a girl…'

Albus gave himself a mental admonishment for thinking such age inappropriate thoughts, although part of him wanted to smile lecherously at the mental picture.

Resisting the urge and turning his eyes to the last member of the group, Dumbledore gave Luna Lovegood, fifth year Ravenclaw, a once over.

The girl seemed to be doing well, 'Very well, in fact,' the powerful wizard thought, comparing the small girl nestled between the two newcomers to the one he'd seen sitting despondently at the House of the Wise's table in the Great Hall. Pale, messy blonde hair was still poorly kept, although young Hermione was now threading her fingers through it over and over again, trying to instill some kind of order as they waited patiently for him to finish his observations.

Albus spared a quick thought as to whether or not the young woman, who had the shortest hair he'd ever seen on a female student, prank victims notwithstanding, knew what she was doing with so much hair, but promptly remembered the near-constant bombardment of criticism his wardrobe drew and decided that  _he_ , at least, certainly had no say in matters of style.

Furthering his comparison, Albus thought that the girl may have been standing a tad straighter, which was doubly impactful considering the reaction she'd had to being called by him earlier. Her smile seemed leagues more genuine as well, and most encouragingly, he noticed, was how the small 'Claw was even leaning back into the male Gryff's shoulder a bit.

While Albus mournfully confessed to himself that he hadn't paid the poor girl as much attention as she deserved over her years at Hogwarts, the way she'd lean  _ever so slightly_ away from those around her had most certainly  _not_ gone unnoticed. After a quick word with her father and a quicker one with Filius though, he'd been left to the conclusion that her aversion to physicality had more to do with general social awkwardness brought on by bullying and the loss of her mother than anything else. While he  _was_  saddened for her, he didn't exactly have the time to personally deal with each and every personal problem that the students at Hogwarts had, much as he may want to, and so he left such duties to the different Heads of House.

While he was unsure of how much help Filius had been to the young Lovegood, he was willing to bet that the two sixth years sandwiched at her sides would prove much better in that regard.

Finally done with his silent musings, which had only taken a touch longer than a minute in the real world, Albus gave the three a disarming smile and said, "Ah, forgive an old man his ponderings. I was off in space." The wizened old headmaster gave a small smile of amusement at the confusion he'd caused Luna with the muggle saying, but also carefully stored away the knowledge that both Evans were familiar with such phrases. Keeping his thoughts off of his face, Albus turned and said pleasantly, "Come now, we will be much more comfortable up in my office than out here in this drafty old hall, I assure you."

And with that the long bearded Headmaster of Hogwarts turned and led the way towards his office; up and down grey stone corridors and even through a secret passageway once. Between the old wizard's firm knowledge of the schools layout, wonky as that layout may be, and the shortcut they'd taken, it was hardly three minutes later that the four found themselves riding up the majestic turning staircase and arriving at Dumbledore's office.

Harry, much like the two girls on his left, had followed the oddly dressed mage (although after knowing him for so long the sparkling blue and white robe he wore mapping out different constellations seemed almost  _tame)_  in silence. Stepping into the Headmaster's office, with its whirling and whizzing trinkets, garish furniture, bookshelf lined walls, overflowing candy bowl, and perched sleeping phoenix, Harry couldn't help the briefest look of melancholy from flashing across his face, although luckily Albus's back had been to him during the moment of weakness.

A second wave of the emotion passed through him again when a wrinkled hand motioned for them to take their seats before its owner offered them all a piece of candy.

"Are you quite sure?" Albus asked with a ghost of a frown marring his brow upon finding no takers.

Unable to help himself, Harry gave the powerful wizard a smile and relented with, "Oh, if you insist, Headmaster. What've you got?"

A much happier looking Dumbledore described the candies in the bowl, sounding not a little like a car salesman, oddly enough, before adding his recommendation of, "And while they are all well and good in their own ways, I have found that the lemon flavored ones stand out in their excellence;  _truly_ , a cut above."

Giving the enthusiastic wizard an amused shake of his head, Harry nevertheless relented and nabbed himself one of the yellow sweets.

After unwrapping the lemony treat and quickly popping it into his mouth, Harry then, like Dumbledore across from him, let the smile slip from his face, as the mood sobered and the air in the office lost its easy cheer.

Giving the three across form him a small nod to acknowledge the change in tone, Albus then asked, in a voice that, while lacking any threatening undertones, carried a full dose of authority, "As you may have suspected, the three of you have been asked up here due to the incident that occurred earlier involving three older Ravenclaw boys. Had Professor Weasley been available today, he would have resolved this issue, and barring that, Professors McGonagall and Flitwick, but as young Mr. Weasley will be absent until sometime tomorrow and both Heads of House are currently teaching, we wind up here." Albus allowed his features to grow slightly grim before he continued. "I suppose that it may have been acceptable to let other disturbances slide in this instance, or at the least wait until one of the more appropriate channels were available to address the issue, but I'm afraid that the serious nature of this situation requires more immediate attention."

Harry, despite the Headmaster's tone, was unconcerned for the most part. 'As long as he's still being long-winded about this, it's safe to say that Dumbledore really doesn't see this as more than a schoolyard scuffle. It's when he's getting straight to the point that he's being serious,' Harry thought, confident in his knowledge of the Headmaster's character.

"Mr. Evans, if you would, please describe exactly what happened earlier," Dumbledore quasi-demanded from across the desk.

Harry only took the briefest of moments to decide between telling the Headmaster the truth or not, before deciding that, in this case, a half-truth may be best.

"Ah, well, you see, Little Luna here looks a whole lot like her mum, who I can just  _barely_ remember helping my parents out with somethin' when I was little. That's not to say that I really  _knew_ - _her_  knew _-_ her," Harry said, aiming an apologetic look at Luna, who looked surprised, "it's just that, well, I guess since I'd been around her mum, and the apple didn't really fall too far from the Lovegood tree, Luna just felt kinda familiar to me, or something. Anyway, then, uh, Jason? Jacob? Yeah, Jacob! Well, he said something pretty foul to Luna, and it involved Selene, and that just pissed me right off. I'm still a bit new to this," Harry said, flexing his claws, "so it's sorta hard for me. Not  _using_ magic, I'm actually loads better now. Nah, I mean  _not_ using it. These days, my magic has something of a mind of its own when it comes to familial ties, and since my brain just went, 'Little Sister', when I saw Luna, it kinda wigged out in her defense. I know that sounds like B S, and yeah,  _maybe_ even consciously I didn't exactly want nice things to happen to him after what he said, but I'm being honest when I say that family bonds, be they by blood or love, truly  _do_ affect me more significantly than others," Harry said earnestly, giving the Headmaster a little nod to reinforce what he said. "And not just like, emotionally, or mentally, or whatever," he continued. "I mean physically,  _biologically_ , my responses in regards to them are almost involuntary."

Harry let out a little noiseless sigh, only half acting now, and said, "Still, that's honestly no excuse. I recognize that what I did was wrong, and I  _do_ take full responsibility for my actions."

Dumbledore sat back in his overstuffed chair, keeping how impressed he was at Harry's accountability entirely internal as he let the tense silence stretch a bit, wanting to stress the wrongness of the young Gryffindor's actions with as little actual punishment as possible. Also, he was going over what else the raven locked teen had revealed, half disturbed and half intrigued at the thought of how the young man, and perhaps his wife as well, were being influenced by the dark additions which had been forced upon them.

He was drawn from his musings by the feather soft tinkling sounds the ruby shards made on the young Mrs. Evan's face as she frowned before saying, "If that's the case, then I deserve punishment as well."

Hermione scowled at Harry's sudden squawking before she turned towards him and said, irritated, "Oh stuff it, Harry. We've been together for how long now? I knew exactly what was going to happen the moment that jerk started running off at the mouth, and so it was my responsibility to stop you. You once told me that letting something happen was as bad as doing it yourself, so there. Headmaster," she said firmly, turning her determined face back towards him, "I demand the same punishment as my husband."

The upwards tilt of her jaw sternly warned against those who may have tried to sway her opinion.

Harry seemed to abandon his disagreements at the movement and just frowned at her in annoyance instead, although the fierce love and appreciation swimming in his eyes did much to detract from his expression's intended effect.

Before Dumbledore could speak on the matter, Luna chimed in, arguing in a voice that was severely lacking in its typical dreamy quality.

"No, neither of them should be punished. If I had just stood up for myself in the first place then Harry and Hermione wouldn't have had to for me. I-if you do punish them, then… T-then I demand the same punishment too!"

Harry was looking distressed at the thought of getting the two girls in trouble, but before he could be cut off again Albus decided to say, "Enough, enough; no more talk of this horrific punishment you all seem to think I'm about to give out, please. Between your newness here at Hogwarts, and the fact that your actions were in defense of a friend, and the healing spells Madame Pomfrey reported Mr. Golday and Mr. Jones knowing nothing about,  _and_ that, based on what you have told me, you were not in full control of your actions,  _and_ these two wonderful young ladies' show of solidarity, I do believe, in this case, and this case  _alone_ , that perhaps a single detention tonight will do. With Professor Potter, maybe? She has expressed some small interest in the two of you, which I am taking to hopefully mean that she will not be too terribly remiss with me for saddling her with you three on such short notice," he half stated half confessed with a warm chuckle.

More surprised by the man's forgiving nature than he should have been, Harry never the less overcame the feeling and replied, "That's very kind of you, sir, but honestly, these two didn't do anything wrong. Hermione," he said, turning to his left to look at the girls, "Luna, I really do appreciate it, but please-"

"No," Dumbledore interrupted firmly, "I shall hold Miss Lovegood and Mrs. Evans to their word. Mr. Evans, while normally I would advocate against punishing the blameless, I think that this is for the best. Simply assisting our lovely Professor Potter with preparing a meal for her family and keeping an eye on young Levi is hardly a cruelty, but the though behind it is what really matters."

The aged wizard's face turned serious as he leaned forward, solemnly saying, "You must understand, lad. Especially in these dark times… It is the innocent, always,  _always_  the innocent, who pay for those actions made in haste."

Albus Dumbledore's face lost any remaining warmth when he paused to frown. He then let out a small sigh before leaning back in his throne like chair and whispering out, "I truly believe, for many reasons, Mr. Evans, that you would do very well to remember that. Oh yes, very well indeed."

Now seemingly distracted by an errant thought, Albus simply said to the three, his eyes fixed on a random point off to the side, "Class will have been dismissed by now. Why don't the three of you go collect your things and hunt down Mrs. Potter? I'm sure she won't object to your assistance…"

With their dismissal audible in the wizard's voice, Harry, Hermione, and Luna all rose from their chairs and made their exit, calling out polite farewells to the inattentive mage that went unanswered.

**AN: The long lost update, I know, but here it is. The next chapter's already written, but needs a little tweaking before it's ready for release. Thank you for your patience, and please remember to favorite, follow, and review!**


	5. Chapter Five

**Chapter Five**

After a quick detour back to the Spell Crafting classroom to grab their bags, and an even quicker promise to Jasper that they'd explain what was up later, the two darker haired teens could be found leading their fairer headed companion towards the Muggle Studies classroom and, when that plan proved ineffective at locating their disciplinarian for the night, back towards the Hogwarts Living Quarters.

Harry was surprised to find that this version of his mum was actually living in the castle and not just making the trip over from Godric's Hollow every morning. While true that the Heads of House were needed to reside in the school while the students were there, the regular professors who were free of such responsibilities were given the choice between an apartment at Hogwarts and their home. While he supposed that most professors  _did_ end up choosing to live in the castle during their stay, for honestly anything else would seem rather  _dull_ compared to the majesty of Hogwarts, he'd just always pictured his mum, when he did picture her, smiling and being motherly at Godric's Hollow.

'Perhaps it has something to do with this 'Levi' Professor Dumbledore mentioned,' Harry mused as they made their way down the hall, checking the different black marble plaques that labeled the doors as they went.

Finally they came upon a warm, honey colored castle door, with its distinct half-oval top, bearing a smart looking, midnight-black strip of marble that proudly proclaimed, 'Lily Potter' in flowery cursive. Halting before the oaken portal, Harry couldn't stop himself from suddenly fretting over his appearance; feeling the urge to look nice for his unknowing mother before entering overcome him.

Hermione was of a similar mind.

Luna watched on as both Harry and his wife Hermione began some last minute smartening up. She smiled at Harry as he ran hand after futile hand through his messy black mop, and at Hermione when she patted her much more controlled mane, making sure it hadn't begun following in her demonic lover's hair's footsteps. She giggled when Hermione, finding nothing amiss, licked her thumb and unabashedly reaching over and rubbing at a small black smudge on the underside of Harry's jaw in a very overbearing-mother-like way.

"Yuck! Eff, Hermione, you  _know_ I hate that!" Harry complained, although he nevertheless stood still and let the sparkling brunette finish her grooming.

After she'd finished, Hermione gave her partner one last look-over before she, seeming to find all of their appearances acceptable, knocked thrice lightly on the wooden door, just below the plaque.

Busied footsteps could be heard coming from inside the room before the oaken door swung inward, revealing Lily Potter standing in the doorway with an inquisitive look on her face.

As the woman he shared DNA with quirked an eyebrow and began to question the trio at her door, Harry took the opportunity to study the woman more closely than he'd been able to before.

Her fiery red hair, just two touches darker than the Weasley's own gingery brand, hung loosely at the back of her head, neatly restrained within a simple ponytail. Lily's choice of hairstyle afforded Harry a better view of his beautiful mother, revealing ears that fit her head and face perfectly and the back of her feminine jaw, which he'd already noticed she had a habit of clenching when upset.

'They were right,' he thought, 'when they said I had my dad's face.'

And he was right, for the most part. Lily's button nose was much more beautiful than his own slightly thinner one, her chin was more angular than his, although only by a tiny margin, and Harry was already wishing that he'd inherited the charming dimples that appeared when Lily smiled, which she was currently doing in reaction to something Hermione had said.

He  _had_ , luckily, inherited at least a few features from the stunning woman though. Other than the fact that they could now most probably serve as night lights, his eyes truly had seemingly been copied and pasted off of his mother's face, looking identical in both shade and shape. Harry had also inherited his mother's slightly pouty lips, although with how much smirking he did nowadays his mouth ended up resembling his father's more often than not anyway.

Moving from her face, Harry took the briefest of moments to both mourn the fact that Lily was a solid inch taller than him and take note of the fact that the beauty in his mother's face was reflected in the rest of her body as well.

He filed this observation away under, 'Do Not Read Ever', and moved on.

Harry spared one final second to take in his mother's attire; jean capris and a black blouse under a flowery apron, before he was forced to join the conversation by his mother's call of, "Harry?"

'There she goes again,' he thought, the warmth he felt at hearing his mother call his name, with something  _other_  than frantic fear in her voice, filling him up and spilling out to brighten his smile as he said, "Ah, my bad Mrs. Potter. What was that again?"

The emerald eyed redhead gave a slightly disapproving frown as she repeated herself dryly and said, "Well, now that I have your attention, I was asking just what you were thinking when you got yourself  _and two others_ into detention on the very first day of class. Honestly, I'd had you pegged as trouble last night, but this is still a bit much Harry."

Her withering, motherly glare affected Harry in a way that was exactly the opposite of what Lily'd intended. Not at all wilting under her scolding tone and frown, Harry instead blasted his alternate-mum with the full power of his charm.

Big, bright green eyes just  _swimming_  with teasing mischief looked up at her innocently as he said, with his pink lips tugging into a handsome grin, "Mrs. Potter! Oh, how you  _wound_  me! Is it not _obvious_  that I acted out  _only_ with the express intent of earning an excuse to come and feast upon your beauty?! For alas, I, a very shy kind of bloke, a mere  _mortal_ among  _goddesses_ , would never have had the guts to approach such an intimidatingly beautiful woman under normal circumstances. No, no! I knew a push was needed, lest I spend the rest of my years here casting longing looks in your direction, never to work up the courage needed to confess my feelings!"

Harry's eyes filled with false tears as he curled his deadly fingers into a fist and dramatically continued.

"But then I found myself in a bind, you see. There I was, having smote a seventh year 'Claw's ruin upon the mountainside, thus earning my justly due  _detention_ ," here he waggled his eyebrows briefly, "with the fair Lily Potter, but suddenly, tragedy! I found myself  _paralyzed_  with fear at the thought of spending a night alone in your quarters. It was too soon! I was too young! And then, as if hearing my mournful dilemma resonate within their kind hearts all the way from heaven," Harry said while wrapping his clawed hands around Hermione's and Luna's waists, "two angels! More kind than any creature found on God's green earth and twice as lovely, appeared in a ray of light, coming down from above to my rescue! They then offered, at great cost to themselves, the gift of their company as I traveled down the path of detention tonight, and, if my luck holds out, perhaps even manhood!"

Harry managed to keep all reactions (save for a slight wince and a closed eye) internal when Hermione harshly dug her elbow into his side at  _that_. Deciding, for his ribs' sake, that he needed to finish his foolishness up, Harry concluded by saying, "And that, oh great, wise, and beautiful Professor Potter, I how the three of us came to be stood outside your bedchambers on this, most holy of nights."

Hermione rolled her eyes and blushed, partially in amusement at Harry's moronic spiel and partially in anger at the edginess of it, Lily let out an amused snort at the routine, which she was overly familiar with and which had her comparing Harry to her husband again, and Luna just giggled at his silliness and smiled at the pleasant warmth radiating from Harry's claw on her side.

Lily tried to remain firm but eventually faltered under the huge, gleaming, emerald green eyes looking up at her, and let out a sigh before jestingly saying, "Alright, alright, enough already. I get more than enough of that from my husband and his friends as it is. You sure you're not related to any of 'em?" Lily asked with an amused smile on her face.

She then found it almost  _impossible_  to keep that same smile from abruptly dropping away when she noticed the briefest, thinnest expressions of alarm flash across Harry and Hermione's faces at the question, although by some herculean effort she managed to keep on like she hadn't noticed anything odd at all.

'Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god!' Lily thought, the brilliant witch's brain exploding into activity as she tried to make a mental list of all the different things that what she'd just glimpsed could mean, clinging to the information that she'd managed to learn about the two's lives before coming to Hogwarts.

'They probably only flinched because I mentioned Harry's parents, who are supposed to be dead,' she thought, desperately trying to keep the fact that Harry looked  _just like her fucking husband_ at bay, along with the dark connotations such knowledge carried with it.

Hermione, noticing something slightly off about Lily's expression, cleared her throat lightly and asked, "Um, Professor, may we come in?"

Lily viciously shoved her dark thoughts down and allowed an embarrassed flush to lightly color her features, which inspired a flash of pride to shoot through her when she noticed how quickly the action drew Harry's eyes to her.

'Still got it,' she thought, before saying, "Yes, please do."

Harry took in the room as he and the young ladies at his sides followed Lily's retreating figure in, smiling at the cheery yellow paint that lined the circular room's walls. Said walls ended and began again thrice, two times for the doorways, the one they'd just walked through and another leading to a hall on their left, and then again where the open plan kitchen area was. Nothing was out yet in the kitchen, which had clean white tiles and walls that clashed a little with its connected room's paint scheme, but Harry could tell by the magnets decorating the refrigerator's doors that the room got at least  _some_ use. The rest of the kitchen was unspectacular; a few standard appliances sat atop regular counter tops with a few wooden cabinets nailed in three or so feet above them. If anything stood out about the room, other than Daisy's proudly displayed O.W.L. results (O's in Transfiguration, Charms, and Defense, with E's in everything else save for an A in History of Magic) and the other knickknacks magnetized to the fridge, it was the room's cleanliness.

'A family trait?' Harry idly mused, thoughts of his aunt Petunia's, and indeed his own sometimes, near-obsessive need for a clean house.

The family room, even with its round yellow walls, also radiated cleanliness, something Harry could appreciate. That the couch and two armchairs, which formed a semicircle hugging a cedar coffee table that sat just a few feet in front of a stone fireplace, were free of plastic was a good indicator that, like him, and unlike Petunia, Lily too refrained from taking her desire for cleanliness too far.

Harry was drawn from his musings when a young voice asked questioningly, "Mommy, who're they?"

Harry turned his head towards the hallway and felt his blood leap in his veins at the sight of a little, green eyed, black haired boy looking up at him curiously.

"What happened to daddy?" the little boy, 'Levi', Harry thought, asked, looking dead at him.

Quickly realizing that he shouldn't know just how much he looked like a thinner, shorter, more youthful version of James Potter, Harry plastered a look of confusion onto his face and turned towards Lily, finding that tearing his gaze away from what was basically his  _little brother_ very, very difficult.

When he did, however, he managed to catch his mother's look of intense scrutiny, which she'd been focusing on him before he'd turned, disappear. A look of fondness grew across her features as she turned to answer her youngest, but a tightness around her eyes spoke to him of falseness.

There was just enough time for Harry to worriedly think, 'What does she suspect?', before Lily replied to Levi with, "Oh honey, daddy won't be here for another hour at least. This is Harry, and his friends Hermione and Luna. They're here to help me with the spaghetti and have dinner with us. Say hello, Levi."

"Hello," he replied dutifully, looking up at the three with wide eyes.

"Hullo," Luna said back with a dreamy smile.

"Hi there Levi, I'm Hermione," the ex-Granger said, putting her hands on her knees and bending over so as to be more at eye level with the toddler.

"Herm-oney?" he asked, butchering her name's pronunciation.

"No sweetie, Her-my-oh-knee," she replied with a smile.

"Hahmione," he tried again.

"Almost," Hermione replied, suddenly a fount of understanding and patience.

Levi screwed his face up in one part frustration and two parts concentration as he slowly parroted back, "Hermione."

Said teen's face split into a happy smile and her eyes lit up as she congratulated the littlest Potter with an exuberant, "That's it! Good job Levi!"

Lily watched on as her little boy smiled back; happy and slightly shy at the older girl's praise, and also as Harry, who looked astoundingly like he  _could have been_ her boy, turned his wide eyes, which had been bouncing between his wife and Levi as the two conversed, onto Hermione to stare at her tenderly.

Levi quickly recovered from the short haired girl's praises, however, and turned his eyes onto Harry. Spotting his oddities, he innocently looked up at eyes like his and asked, "Mister, why do you have a tail?"

Lily was ready to intervene and apologize on her son's behalf, but before she could Harry's eyes widened as he spun around, dramatically yelling out, "A tail!? Where? Ah! How'd that get there!?"

Finally, after managing to 'capture' the cable-like appendage between his claws, Harry then held the teardrop shaped furry end up close to his face, which held a look of intense scrutiny as he pretended to study the tail suspiciously.

Lily smiled at the teen's goofy behavior and the giggles it drew from Levi before interrupting with, "Alright now, enough goofing around; Levi, sweetie, why don't you take Luna here and go show her your toys, okay? And while you do that, the three of us will go ahead and get a start on dinner."

"Okay mommy," Levi replied before snatching a startled looking Luna Lovegood's hand and dragging her back to his room, talking a mile a minute and obviously eager to punch the ticket his mom had just given him to empty his toy box.

Lily called out, "Just holler if you need me Luna," before the two youngest disappeared into a doorway down the hall.

"Okay now, you two," Lily started as she headed into the kitchen, "before we get started on dinner, I want to know what  _really_ happened today. I know earlier I said that I'd pegged you as trouble Harry, but to be honest, despite how nice it is to have the three of you over for dinner tonight, I'm a little bit disappointed in you for getting a detention, and on your first day of class too. What happened?"

Lily's more serious tone, coupled with the fact that it  _physically hurt_ to be told,  _by his goddamn mother,_ that he'd disappointed her, had Harry quickly retelling the partial lie he'd carefully woven back in the headmaster's office once again.

Lily's face, being wonderfully expressive as it was, served to provide great insight to Harry and Hermione, broadcasting Lily's emotions clearly as she leaned against the kitchen counter and listened to Harry recount the day's happenings. She looked surprised to hear that he'd known Selene Lovegood, disapproving when he said that he'd hurt Luna's verbal tormentor with magic, and horrified when she realized that, more than just affecting the two teens' looks, their ritualistic alterations and additions had also changed the very way Harry, and she was guessing Hermione as well, thoughtand made decisions.

By the time he'd finished his tale, Lily had fallen into thought, just giving Harry a single small nod to acknowledge that she'd heard him. She held this expression as she quietly mulled over what she'd learned, speaking only to assign her two impromptu helpers roles in the dinner preparations while her mind was dominated with the task of figuring out how she felt about everything she'd learned today.

Finally, when they were finished, with the sauce boiling on the stove, the noodles sitting ready to eat in a strainer, and the garlic bread toasting on a cookie sheet in the oven, Lily turned to face the clawed boy and his jewelry studded wife to say, with a blend of remorseful sadness and steely resolve on her face, "I would tell you two how sorry I am for what you've been put through, but I harbor doubts that you'd care to hear me say the words. Instead I'll say this: bar you betraying my family, the two of you will always be accepted in my home. I-," here, the redheaded mother of two (three?) seemed to falter before visibly marshaling her courage and continuing with, "I feel a connection. To you," here she looked at Harry. "To both of you, really. I don't know if it's because of how much you look like you could be one of mine, or if it's something else, but I feel it all the same."

Lily was looking extremely embarrassed at what she'd just said, with her downcast eyes, clasped hands, and flushed features. This had Harry opening his mouth to try and come to her rescue, maybe alleviate some of her embarrassment, but he was beat to the punch by Hermione.

"Mrs. Potter," Hermione called softly, although her eyes were on Harry, looking at him in silent askance. After a long moment he seemed to realize what she was suggesting with those eyes and gave a slightly panicked half nod, which she correctly took to mean as, 'Yes but not everything'.

She nodded back to him before finally turning her head to face Lily and saying quietly, "This really,  _really_ , isn't the time or place for me to elaborate, but please trust us when I say that, the fact that you feel the way you do, speaks  _only_ of good things in regards to both you as a woman, a-and…" Hermione shot one last clarifying look at Harry, to give him one last chance to change his mind, but upon finding nothing in his expression except support for her words and a  _whole lot_  of nervousness, she finished her sentence. "And also, you as a mother."

And before Lily had even a full second to process  _that_ bombshell and all of the millions of crazy things it made her feel and think with its insinuations, the front door was suddenly thrown open by an extremely joyful looking James Potter.

His smile, which had clearly expressed how happy he was to be home, evaporated upon spotting the two strangers in his house along with his wife's shell shocked, distressed expression.

Powerless to stop his hard won battle instincts from kicking in, James's face morphed into a hard scowl as his body sprung into motion. In his fighting mindset as he was, James didn't  _think_ that he had to take both targets down in a single move so much as he  _calculated_ it. Deciding to use a mix of magic and boxing; his signature fighting style, James threw a jaw-breaking right hook towards the tailed teen even as a cherry red stunner flew from his wand's tip towards the jewelry clad young woman at handgun speeds.

But if he was a bullet, then Harry was  _lightning_.

Moving faster than the naked eye could see, Harry's matte black claws shot out, one to smack the Potter patriarch's fist to the left, leaving his punch to go wide, and the other to  _catch_ the stunning spell.

James allowed himself a single moment of incredulity at the impossible sight before springing back into action. Off balance as he was from his missed punch, James leaned in for a head-butt, intending to at least daze the insanely fast intruder.

His sneak attack failed, however, when Harry leaned his head to the side and dodged his father's skull, leaving the older Potter to lose his already precarious balance to the forward momentum. This led to James doing what amounted to a stumble into Harry, whose left hand came wrapping around his back unrelentingly; pinning his arms down to his sides and trapping him in place.

James had a single second to try and struggle out of the ironclad grip that Harry held him in before the boy's other hand struck him in the back of the head, slapping the crown of James's head with an open palm. The same palm which held the glowing stunner spell in it.

James Potter went boneless as his body attempted to slump to the ground, but Harry's firm hold kept him from falling.

"James! Harry!  _James!_ " Lily exclaimed, but before the situation could degrade any further Harry took action.

Swiftly settling his father onto the carpeted floor, doing his best to keep his furiously shaking arms from lashing out, Harry simultaneously took a step back from James' prone form and wrapped a protective arm around Hermione's waist.

Hermione, knowing Harry wouldn't be fit to think or talk rationally in that moment, looking dead into her lover's mother's eyes, imploringly, and urged, "Professor, look at me.  _Lilly_!"

The redhead, who'd fallen to James's side, followed the girl's command and looked up, just catching the slickly retreating river of black on Hermione's skin.

"Calm," the young woman barked out, seeing the red headed professor's frantic eyes. "Renervate, Professor; cast it. He is unconscious,  _stunned_ , nothing more. Wake him," she urged, although the harsh grip Harry held her in made her add, "and restrain him, please, for his own good."

Lily, realizing that the girl was right and that she was overreacting, tried to calm herself as she reached a shaking hand into her pocket and withdrew her wand. Laying the tip gently down on the center of her husband's chest, Lily then shakily spoke, "R-rennervate!"

James's eyes snapped open the moment the spell was cast, and, upon seeing the two teens still present, he tried to jump to his feet.

A firm hand from Lily pressed to his chest kept him pinned, and when he looked to his wife's face he saw a dark scowl there that took the wind out of his sails. She held the look as she angrily yelled, "Enough, James! You coming in here and just attacking two of my students for no reason; it's nonsense! Completely unacceptable! It's a good goddamn thing that Harry here was so fast, or else you would've just stunned a fucking pregnant girl, James! Jesus Christ!" she swore on, something she only did when she was  _really_ upset, "What if you'd hurt her?! Oh my God, what if you'd  _hurt her James!?_ " Lily cried, scared at the thought, "I'm so, so sorry, you two, oh my God," she said with horrified tears suddenly in her eyes as she looked up at a furious looking Harry and stone-faced Hermione. Turning her gaze back down towards her husbands she said, pushing harder on him in her anger, " _Apologize_ James,  _right now damnit!_ "

James looked like he wanted to defend himself for the briefest of seconds before he realized just how badly he'd almost screwed and how flimsy his justification of, 'but you were looking at them oddly when I came in' sounded, even to him.

Turning his gaze towards the two teens, James quietly said, in a sincere voice, "I'm sorry for attacking you. I'm an auror and I completely misread the situation, which I know is no excuse, but I just wanted to say so you both knew that I didn't fly off at the handle for no reason. No good reason, yes, I admit. Are the two of you okay? Lily, honey, make sure they're okay."

She rose and moved forward to do so, but halted mid-action when Harry stepped in front of Hermione, tiny arcs of green lightning volting across his arms, ghosting down toward his hands before disappearing.

Lily felt some kind of horrible emotion rush through her system at the green eyed boy's actions, and wasn't entirely able to keep her feelings off of her face.

Harry easily picked up on the distress he'd caused his mother to feel, but he hadn't been entirely false when he'd said earlier that his responses were near-involuntary when it came to his loved ones, and that went double for his pregnant lover.

Luckily, for the emotional states of both Harry and Lily, Hermione solved their dilemma by gently snaking he arms around her husband's thin waist and saying, "Why don't we all just try and relax, okay? I'm fine, Harry's fine, you're fine, everything is just  _fine_."

Hermione's touch did wonders to sooth Harry's protective instincts, which had flared up like crazy the moment James had cast a stunner in her direction.

Now, feeling just a little more in control of himself, Harry offered his mum an apologetic look as he said, "S-sorry about that Lily. It's just, you know,  _hard_ , for me, I mean, in situations like that. To chill out. It just… Just takes a second s'all. I honestly didn't mean anything by, well, um. Sorry again."

Lily seemed relieved to hear Harry's explanation, feeling the wound his rejection had caused her mostly heal over at the sincerity she heard in his apology. Still feeling a touch tender though, despite Harry's words, Lily took care as she suggested, "Why don't I go ahead and fetch Levi and Mrs. Lovegood? Dinner's ready, and I think it'd do us all some good to have a seat and relax a little, yes?"

Not waiting for a reply, Lily headed off down the hall, intent on retrieving the two youngest members in the apartment quickly; she  _really_ didn't want anything to happen while she was away.

Now, without Lily there to serve as a buffer, Harry felt the room quickly growing awkward with tenseness. Eager to stop that from happening, Harry cleared his throat and took an easy step towards James, who he was happy to note didn't flinch in the slightest, and offer his hand as he said, "What say we just put the last five minutes behind us and start fresh, huh? I'm Harry, Harry Evans, and this is my beautiful wife, Hermione. It's nice to meet you, Mr. Potter."

James, unknowingly mirroring the same reaction his daughter had had earlier, found himself surprised at how mature Harry, who he'd pegged as a seventh year, was acting about the situation.

'Gods know I wasn't that grown up back then,' he thought before responding with, "Ah, sounds good to me. And it's James, please. It'd be awkward if you called Lily by her first name and me by my last, ya know?"

Harry nodded in acquiescence and smiled.

And so it was, to the sight of Harry and her husband shaking hands and smiling, that Lily returned, with one hand draped comfortably over Luna's thin shoulders and the other gently on the back of her son's head, leading the two. The sight made her smile.

Once they'd all gathered and moved into the kitchen, ready to sit down and eat, Hermione looked around with a slight frown and asked, "Where's Daisy? Is she not coming?"

Lily's face took on an expression of exasperation as she replied with, "Oh, no, she'll be here. It's just that, Daisy, well, she's kind of  _known_ for being late. If we ever want her on time for a family event we have to tell her that it starts fifteen minutes before it does. It's honestly a tad embarrassing how used to it we are, but Clementine and her friend Jasper both make sure she isn't late to her classes, and she really doesn't mean it, so we just sort of let it slide. I'm expecting her to come through the doo-"

In a scene filled with enough cheesy irony to make it cable worthy, at that exact moment, the door to the Potter Apartment swung open, revealing a flushed looking Daisy Potter, wearing a black T-shirt that bore a crimson Gryffindor lion and a pair of dark blue jeans. The way she was panting slightly combined with her slightly ridden up shirt to paint the picture that the sixteen year old had ran the entire way there.

"Safe!" she exclaimed before continuing loudly, "Haha! Who's on time?  _I'm_ on time! Take  _that_ mom and da… oh."

Daisy had spotted the two transfer students, and a little Ravenclaw, looking at her from the dinner table in amusement.

Looking from one of them to the other, Daisy suddenly found herself trapped in Harry's bright, green eyed gaze.

As she stood there in the doorway, with six sets of eyes watching here, Daisy felt red creep up her neck, unrelenting in its climb, not stopping until she was blushing from the crown of her head to the tips of her toes. And to top it all off, she still couldn't look away from Harry Evans' handsome gaze.

"Pumpkin, what's wrong? Come sit down," her father said, seeming not to notice her embarrassment.

"Daa~aad!" she cried in mortification.

"What?" he asked, and Harry silently marveled at how the man was actually  _sincere_ in his puzzlement.

'Guess his nose for sniffing out stuff to tease people about isn't as strong as the view he has of Daisy still being a little girl,' Harry thought, amused at the man's blindness until he had a sudden vision of  _him_ having to deal with his daughter and  _boys_.

Deciding to help the man out, and praying that the karma he earned in doing so would help him out should he ever find himself in a similar situation down the road, Harry gave Daisy a small smile and motioned for her to take a seat at the table. He then, sparing the girl from any more embarrassment, looked down at his plate, which was piled high with thick spaghetti noodles drowned in sauce, just the way he liked it.

No longer held prisoner by the dark haired man's intense gaze, Daisy felt control return to her limbs. Seizing the opportunity to grab a seat quickly, lest he look up again, Daisy did so and settled in at the square table, with her parents on her left, her brother and the Ravenclaw girl on her right, and Harry and Hermione across from her.

As her daughter, who she was amused to see had a crush on Harry, piled a few servings of pasta onto her plate, before drowning it in sauce, much like said crush, Lily felt an odd sort of contentment settle over her, which only grew stronger as she looked around the table.

Deciding that she quite liked the feeling, Lily resolved to have the two Evans, as well as their recently 'adopted' sister, over for dinner as often as they could stand.

James had caught the look on his wife's face and came to the conclusion that there was more to the guests in his apartment than met the eye.

'And that's saying something,' James thought, ''Cause gods, there's a lot that meets the eye.'

James Potter had been an auror for almost as long as he  _hadn't_ been by this point in his life, so, cliché as it sounded; there really wasn't a whole lot he hadn't seen, especially concerning dark magics.

And the two Evans  _radiated_  dark magic.

Well, that wasn't quite true, but to his senses, which had been exposed to the stuff over the years as much as they had, the two may as well have.

But dark magics or no, James really could honestly say that he'd never seen anything like them before, baring Harry who he thought looked like he could have been related. However, despite their strange appearances and the black magics that he could feel pumping through their veins, James had been raised to judge a person based on their actions alone.

Wanting to know more about the two, partially because they were just interesting and partially because his wife seemed so taken with them, James turned to Harry and asked, "So, Harry, how do you and Lily know each other?" James thought it a tad odd that he hadn't head Lily talk about such an obviously unique person before, but figured that if he and his 'Wife, was it?' were over for dinner already, surely the two had some kind of history.

"Hm?" Harry hummed out questioningly, mouth too packed full of spaghetti to properly reply.

"Harry," Lily cut in disapprovingly, to which the young man quickly swallowed his mouthful of pasta and apologized with a quick, "Sorry."

"Actually, James," Lily continued, "Harry and Hermione here are new students, transfers."

"Oh?" James asked, turning an appraising eye on the two, trying to guess what school they'd come from. "Where from? I'd've guessed Durmstrang, but you don't have an accent."

"We were home schooled, actually," Hermione replied, daintily patting the corner of her mouth with a napkin, a sophisticated yin to Harry's near-savagely feasting yang. "Our parents were close, and they had talented friends, so we've managed to mostly keep pace with Hogwarts curriculum."

"Oh?" James said, impressed, "They sound like interesting people. Maybe I know them?" he suggested, knowing that his occupation brought him into contact with a large number of interesting and powerful people.

An awkward fog of melancholy settled over Harry and Hermione, before they quickly suppressed it and Harry answered, "No, they were very private people."

James, finally catching on to the past tense the two were using when talking of their parents, sincerely said, "I apologize, I-"

But he was cut off with, "No, that's alright. Really, we're okay," from Hermione.

A thin cloud of awkwardness hugged the dinner table after that, until, after a couple seconds of silence, the only person at the table who didn't catch what they were talking about, Levi, spoke.

"Guess what!" he abruptly blurted out, spraying a few chunks of half-chewed food out as he did.

"Levi!" Lily shouted, scolding her youngest through furrowed brows, "Do not speak with a mouth full of food!"

"Sorry mom," he quietly replied, still with food in his mouth, much to his older sister's amusement.

After swallowing, Levi tried again, though not quite as enthusiastically as before, to start a conversation about his day with his father.

Harry watched on, quietly enraptured, as the youngest Potter proceeded to regale his father with stories of what he'd done over the day, starting with brushing his teeth after he woke up, without having to be told, all the way up to showing Luna each and every one of his toys, and then his drawings. Harry silently recorded the look of exasperation Daisy shot her younger brother with luminescent green eyes, watched the looks of fondness sweep across Lily and James' faces as their son's enthusiasm grew with each tale, and felt a painful happiness settle over him.

Hermione had quickly noted her counterpart's melancholy, and wasted no time threading her fingers through his, mindful of his claws, as they both spent the rest of dinner with the Potters, interacting when spoken to but otherwise just silently soaking in the missed radiance of such an old thing like 'family'.

**AN: May be a little bit before the next update this time, but hang in there, I'll keep at it. Lately I've been enraptured by, well Rapture; or the Bioshock universe, and its floating and sunken cities, Columbia and Rapture, rather. Don't be surprised if the next thing I put out is set there. For those who don't care for that stuff and just want the next update, don't worry. As always, please follow and favorite, and post a review if you've got an opinion, suggestion, or what have you.**


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